


the blind date

by alex28



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-07 01:33:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3155948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alex28/pseuds/alex28
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa Stark is on the worst date of her life. Lancel Lannister is so boring, Sansa decides to escape through the window rather than listen to him and his dull conversations. When she falls and breaks her shoe, injuring herself, it's her hour of need. Nobody seems to notice her, apart from one man - the brooding stranger who appears from the shadows...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

[photoset for chapters 1 & 2 :)](http://onceuponachippedteacup.tumblr.com/post/107917747912/this-is-really-bad-i-know-i-suck-a-photoshop)

Sansa was bored already. She knew she should have given this guy a chance, but he was so… dull. The date had been going for about forty minutes, and Sansa had only stayed that long out of politeness.

The restaurant he had taken her to was perfect – a large, dimly lit room with red velvet drapes served as the reception. A tall table came with a thin, tall man stood behind it. He had slick black hair and a goatee. His accent was thick, and when he smiled Sansa noticed his teeth were as white as the shirt he wore. “Reservation, eight o’clock. Name of Lannister.” On hearing Lancel’s surname – which was apparently _something_ – the slick man’s eyes grew wide, his smile even wider. “Yes, Mr Lannister,” he grinned, “Please, follow me.”

The man had led them down a walkway, past other tables with loved-up couples, and sat them down in their own private booth. The room again was dimly lit, candles flickering away on the round table. Menus were handed to them, Lancel ordered the finest bottle of wine and had it placed on the table in an ice bucket.

Lancel Lannister was a guy with creepy blue-grey eyes, and long, greasy blonde hair. He was a sweet enough person, but he droned on and on and _on_ about his city job. Lancel worked in a bank, Lannister Funding or something or other, and he made lots of money, apparently – Sansa _had_ tried to pay attention, but she found herself distracted by the tray of cakes that the waiter had carried past. Those lemon cakes looked divine, and they were certainly far more interesting than hearing about that time Lancel’s boss, Mr Tywin, gave him a promotion within his first two weeks of joining the firm…

“Would you care for a dessert, Sansa?” Lancel’s voice caused Sansa to snap back to reality. Sansa looked at him through her lashes, and smiled. Poor Lancel thought it was sincere. He thought she was enjoying the date. “I would love some, if you are having some, too,” Sansa smiled. Lancel was blown away by how beautiful she was. Sansa Stark was a gift – with her bright blue eyes and long auburn hair, she was perfect.

Lancel looked at the menu. “I’ve heard this place makes the nicest chocolate mousse, I think I shall have that. Order whatever you like, this is my treat.” Sansa cast her eyes down the menu and didn’t need to look twice. Lancel asked her if she was ready to order, and she nodded. The waiter came hurrying along, and Lancel ordered his chocolate mousse. “And for the lady?”

“I’ll have the lemon cakes, thank you.”

“I’m afraid we are all out of lemon cakes,” the waiter bit his lip. “My apologies.”

“Not good enough,” Lancel spat, and Sansa frowned at him. “Request the chef makes a fresh batch. If that is not possible, have a kitchen hand run to the nearest supermarket and get supplies to make some fresh. This will not stand. _I_ will not stand for this!”

“Really, it’s no bother,” Sansa began, hating how rude he had suddenly turned. Lancel wouldn’t hear it.  
“I am a _Lannister_ ,” he snarled at the waiter. “You will do this now, or else I shall tell every restaurant inspector in town that this filthy place is infested with rats, mice, lice, the works. Is that what you want? To be shut down and out of a job? Is it?”

“N-no, sir,” the waiter replied quietly. He bowed his head respectfully. “I’ll see to it right away, and we shall all try and be as quick as we can. Once again, my apologies sir…” The waiter turned to Sansa, who was horrified. “And to you, sweet lady…”

When the waiter had left, Lancel calmed and smiled at Sansa. Sansa was so mad. Lancel was a bad enough date to begin with, but when he had snapped and was so rude to that poor man, Sansa had had enough. She had only agreed to go on this date because she had promised her best friend, Margaery, that she would. Margaery had been the one to set them up – it had been a blind date. Sansa hadn’t any other plans for this Saturday night anyway, so she decided to go for the hell of it. Now she regretted her decision deeply.

Sansa stood up, and Lancel copied. “Where are you off to?”

“Just to the ladies,” Sansa smiled, giving nothing away. “I shan’t be long.”

“I’ll be here,” Lancel grinned, and Sansa wanted to smack his smug little face. Sansa forced a smile one last time, picked up her bag and walked away.

She went into the toilets and looked at herself in the mirror. Without sounding bigheaded, she thought she looked quite nice tonight. Her red hair was straight, long, flowing down her back and across her shoulders. Her makeup was simple: her high cheekbones perfectly contoured with blush, while mascara and a flick of eyeliner enhanced her sapphire eyes. The dress she had decided to wear was rather short, strapless, and the colour of the darkest emerald. It complimented her red hair and blue eyes wonderfully. Her shoes had been new, which is why she now had blisters all over her feet. They were higher than she’d normally wear, thin heels, black, with a thin strap across her feet.

Sansa wasn’t normally the type of girl who’d run out on a date, but this one had been the worst date she had ever been on. The restaurant and the food had been faultless, but the company had ruined the evening completely.

Sansa first thought about leaving the restaurant through the main door, but there was a high chance Lancel would spot her, and she’d never live down the shame. So, she decided to go all cliché, and exit via the window.

Sansa made sure the toilets were empty, and then she made her escape. She made sure her flat keys, purse and phone were safely zipped inside her bag, and then she climbed onto the sink and through the open window. Thankfully, the window was large, but her slim flame slid through quite easily. Sansa was surprised at how well she had managed this escape—

“Ouch!” Sansa grumbled as a heap on the floor. She had cursed herself. She had been doing so well, and then the stupid zip on her bag had got caught in something and Sansa had tried to pull it, forgetting she was halfway through a window, and she fell to the floor. She picked herself up and patted the dirt that had grown attached to her dress. _This is karma_ , Sansa thought to herself as she walked round the corner and onto the main high street. _Karma for running out on my date. Oh no…_

Sansa unzipped her bag and took out her phone. She dialed a number and waited for an answer. Margaery wasn’t answering her phone. Sansa sighed and hung up, and only then did she notice a text message. _‘Hope your date goes well tonight. I’m seeing Bronn tonight, so I probably won’t answer my mobile. You know what he’s like ;) I made some cookies before, took some for Bronny but saved you some, they’re in a basket on the table. See you tomorrow, stay safe, love you x x x.’_ Sansa smiled thinly at the text, but sighed. She really needed her.

Sansa managed to walk through town, and headed for the taxi rank. Her foot was hurting quite badly, but she shook it off. She stood and waited for a taxi, and typically none were available. People passed by, but nobody paid her any attention. The taxi rank was next to a pub, and Sansa could hear loud singing and cheering coming from inside.

After a few minutes of waiting, she was about to give up and walk home. She shared a flat with Margaery, and it was a twenty-minute walk away. She took a step, and cried out in agony. She looked down and only just realised that her shoe had snapped – the heel had come off altogether, and it seemed like she had twisted her ankle. She took another step, just to see if she could walk, and it was pure hell. She whimpered in pain and bit her lip. Ever the warrior, Sansa took another step, and found it was a bad idea. She needed help. She wanted to go to the hospital - her foot was now crippling her with pain. She searched nearby to see if any taxis were approaching, but the streets were still.

 _Come on_ , she sighed. _One taxi, that’s all I’m asking for…_ Sansa jumped at the noise that had come from behind her. Heavy breathing and footsteps to match. Sansa gulped, grabbed hold of her keys that were now in her hands. She prepared herself and turned round sharply.

“You’re in trouble girl,” the voice was deep, husky, and it scared Sansa to death. A figure was stood in the shadows, leaning against the wall. Sansa didn’t see the face of this person, but from their shadow she knew they were tall, well built… and terrifying. Sansa ignored them, hoping they’d go away and leave her alone.

“You’re waiting for a taxi, none will be here for a good thirty minutes,” the voice spoke again. “Trust me.” When Sansa didn’t reply, the footsteps grew closer and closer, and didn’t stop until they were right behind her. Sansa gasped as she saw a man step into the light.

“I can help you,” the man said. This man was a beast, in all senses. He stood tall, towering over Sansa like a castle. He had black hair that covered one side of his face, and the blackest eyes Sansa had known. His face was slightly worn, due to age and the stresses of life, and his mouth was slightly torn but soft. The man's face was coated in a thick black stubble, and Sansa usually hated facial hair but found she liked it on this man. He was wearing relaxed blue jeans, a black shirt and black shoes that could have done with polish. Sansa couldn’t get over how… how big he was.

“I don’t need help,” Sansa whispered, but surprisingly he heard her. He barked a laugh and it sent shivers down her spine.  
“Sure you don’t. I’m not the one with the broken shoe and dirt on me.” Sansa scoffed at him, but realised he was right.

“Be that as it may,” she said, trying to sound and appear confident, “you are a total stranger. Why should I accept your help? For all I know you could be a murderer, or something.”

“Or something,” he laughed. “True. But, here’s a sad yet true fact for your pretty ears: the world we live in now is how it is because the men who founded it were killers. The world was built by killers.”

Sansa listened to his words and thought about them for a few seconds. She was shocked when she found herself stepping towards him. She must have been crazy due to her fall from the window. This man was a complete stranger – a man who had appeared from the alleyway – why was she approaching him?!

“And how can you help me?” she asked. The man clicked something in his hands and Sansa saw and heard a car open. “See that?” The man nodded his head towards the black BMW. “It’s mine. You look like you need to go to the hospital. I can take you.”

“Why? What do you want out of it?”

“Nothing,” the man said, and he sounded angry. “If you’d rather wait and let your ankle get worse, be my guest. I was trying to be nice. I told that bastard, gets you nowhere in life. I was right. Stupid –”

“Ok,” Sansa screamed at herself. What the hell was she doing? This man _could_ turn out to be a murderer. Why was she getting into his car? Why was she allowing him to slide into the drivers seat, start the engine and drive off? What had possessed her to be so reckless?!

***

Sansa felt her heart racing as they drove in the dark. They didn't speak to each other, and it was incredibly awkward. Her hands were shaking, and the man noticed.

"What's your name, girl?"

"What's yours?"

"I asked you first," he said, and Sansa couldn't help but giggle. The man rolled his eyes and sighed.

"What's so funny?"

"You sound like a child," Sansa laughed. "'I asked you first.'"

"Are you going to tell me?" he huffed.

"Alayne," she lied. It was useless. He saw right through her.

"And what's your real name?" Sansa gawped at him for a few seconds. She sighed and bit her lip.

"My name's Sansa," she replied. "What's yours?"

"Sandor," the man replied, not looking at her.

"Sandor," she repeated. He grunted something at her, but she didn't hear. She liked the way his name rolled off her tongue... 

Before they both knew it, Sandor's car was pulling into the A&E carpark. He stopped the car and looked at her. Sansa licked her lips and sat awkwardly. "Thank you, for the ride..." He nodded curtly at her and stared ahead.

"Do you want me to walk you to the reception desk?" he asked, and they were both shocked by his question.

"Thank you, but I'll be fine from here," she smiled. "I have some money... if you want some, for petrol or something..."

"No," he said flatly. "No, I don't want your money. I hope your foot gets better." Sansa unbuckled her seatbelt and went to get out of the car. Before she had time to blink, Sandor had flashed round to the other side. He was now stood holding the car door open for her. She got out of the car, and she felt her heart bolt as their hands met. He held his hand out to steady her, and once she was standing their hands remained together. Neither of them removed their hands at first, and time stood still as they both looked at each other... An ambulance came speeding into the car park, lights and sirens blaring, and it made them both crash back down to their own situation.

Sansa blushed, and Sandor cleared his throat. He let go of her hand and stepped back, as if she had just given him an electric shock, and he stared at her with those slate eyes. Sansa felt her breathing slowing, and she looked up at him with those big blue eyes. "Thank you, again... for, er, the ride. I really appreciate it."

"No trouble," he replied. "I hope your foot feels better. Gets better, I mean."

Sansa smiled at him and he got into his car and drove off. Sansa watched him go, and only when his car was completely out of sight did she make her way in through the double doors to the A&E department.

***

It turned out Sansa had sprained her ankle. She was to rest it for the next few days - keep it elevated, keep pressure on it, keep a cold compress on it. The nurse Sansa saw, Talisa Maegyr, was so sweet and caring. She had a laugh that Sansa found infectious, and a beautiful face that Sansa loved looking at. "You should avoid movement for the next few days. We can provide you with crutches, if necessary." Sansa thanked her, but said she'd manage. Sansa was a fighter. She knew as soon as Margaery found out she was injured she'd be well taken care of. "Sprains can vary, but luckily yours doesn't seem too life-threatening. I'd say rest for a week, two if you are still in pain, but if you experience any pain after say, seven days, come back and we'll see what's going on." Talisa also gave Sansa a list of some gentle home exercises to do, but told her not to do them until at least a week had passed.

"Thank you for your help," Sansa grinned.

"It's my job, and my pleasure," Talisa replied. "Get well soon. Do you have a way home? I hope you're not driving..."

"No," Sansa laughed, "I can't drive, anyway. I'm getting a taxi, thank you."

Sansa stood outside the double doors of the A&E department and saw a taxi approaching. She hailed it and got inside, aided by the driver. She told the driver her address, and soon enough the driver, a small man with light brown hair and glasses, was pulling up outside the flat she shared with Margaery. Sansa paid the man and slowly - and painfully - made her way into her flat. 

Thankfully, Sansa and Margaery lived on the first floor, and Sansa took the lift. She entered her flat and smiled as she saw the cookies that Margaery had told her about. Sansa managed - just - to change out of her dress and into some soft pyjamas, and sank into her bed. When she slept, she found herself dreaming of the man who had come from the shadows. Sandor...

***

"Sansa," a soft, gentle voice sounded, and Sansa opened her eyes. She saw her best friend, Margaery, standing above her.

Margaery was beautiful, with her long, wavy brown hair and eyes to match. Margaery was a few years older than Sansa - (Margaery was twenty four and Sansa was twenty). The two had been friends for a few years, and had met at work. They both worked as a waitress at the restaurant on the outskirts of town. Margaery had worked there since she was eighteen, and Sansa had been the new waitress. Something about Sansa had sparked Margaery’s interest from the get go, and the restaurant manager, Davos, had asked Margaery to take Sansa under her wing. "No problem," Margaery had replied. Margaery introduced herself, showed Sansa the ropes, and within a matter of days the two had become the best of friends. Sansa was beautiful, so young and naive yet hilarious and free. She had the sweetest laugh, and Margaery truly adored her. Like many people, Sansa had her share of heartbreak and pain. Margaery invited Sansa over to her flat one night, before Christmas, and it was there she found out Sansa's story.

Sansa had previously been in a relationship with a boy named Joffrey Baratheon. He had been her high-school sweetheart, and Sansa dreamed that one day they would be married. One night, Joffrey had got incredibly drunk and had verbally and physically abused Sansa. He left her with a black eye and a split lip. She broke it off with him, but he turned into a stalker. He bombarded her Facebook, sent her vile texts and constantly threatened her and her family. It go so bad that she took out a restraining order on him, which was still active today. Her family weren't comfortable with him, so they moved away. They moved an hour up north, and things were better. However, a year later, Sansa's parents were on their way to an old friend's wedding, when they collided with a lorry and were sadly both killed. Sansa didn't cope very well with their death, and her older sister, Arya, didn't either. They were all each other had, but they had never been close. The death of their parents caused them to drift away from each other even more. Arya decided to move down south, right at the end of the country, and studied Combat and Fight History at university. She went to classes religiously, but spent every night getting drunk with her new boyfriend, Jaqen.

Sansa had no other family, and all of her friends were busy with their own lives. She had decided she needed a new start, and so she applied for a job as a waitress, in a fish restaurant in a town she had never been to. Sansa had been eighteen at the time. She managed to rent a single room in a flat above a kebab shop. It wasn't the best life ever, but Sansa was making do with what she could.

Margaery continued to watch over Sansa, and within a month of Sansa coming into her life the pair had regular girl's nights. It always involved lots of wine, chick-flicks and drunk singing. One night, just before Christmas, Sansa was drunk and was telling Margaery she was behind on her rent. She had sent some money to Arya, who had managed to blow all her student loan within the first week, and it had left her short. She hadn't meant to tell Margaery - she hadn't meant to tell anyone, it just slipped out. She blamed the vodka that Margaery had made her shot. Margaery wasn't going to stand for that.

"I have a problem for your solution," Margaery had giggled, falling onto the sofa and across Sansa's lap. She spilled her vodka and lemonade on the sofa and laughed even harder. "Bronn will kill me, he bought this sofa!" Sansa bit her lip and attempted to wipe up the spillage, but Margaery's slender fingers tapped Sansa's away. "He's a man, he can deal with it. Now, my darling. About your rent. I know what you must do."

"What?" Sansa asked, unable to stop giggling.

"You see this flat you are in right now, my dear?" Sansa nodded, her red hair bouncing around her face. "Well it does have two bedrooms. I only need one, and Bronny always shares my bed. You must take the other one."

"Oh no, I couldn't do that!" Sansa gushed. "This is your flat, and -"

"And you are my best friend, dear," Margaery forced herself to sit up, spilling yet more alcohol, and she kissed Sansa's forehead. "I won't take any other answer but yes." Sansa shook her head at Margaery, and the day later she packed her things into a box, said goodbye to the smelly old kebab shop room, and said hello to her new life with Margaery Tyrell.

*

"Here.” Sansa sat up in her bed and took the mug of hot tea from her friend. Margaery sat down at the foot of Sansa’s bed and smiled at her. “How’s your foot?” Sansa swallowed her tea and looked down at her leg. “Still... really sore,” Sansa replied. She sipped her tea again. “But the nurse at A&E said it probably would for around a week. I’m to rest for the next few days. I need to call work, and tell them –”

“Already taken care of,” Margaery grinned. “I phoned this morning, first thing. Davos says do not rush your recovery, but he has one hand, so he would say that." Sansa shook her head at her friend. "You can't say that!" Margaery flashed Sansa a wicked grin and winked.

"How was the date last night?" Margaery remembered. Before Sansa replied, she disappeared. Sansa heard her footsteps on the kitchen floor, and when she returned she was holding two cookies. She had already began nibbling on her own, and handed one to Sansa. "Thank you." She took a bite and left the rest on the bedside table. "That's why my foot is like it is now," Sansa bit her lip. "I'm sorry, I know you set this up, but... god, Marg, he was awful."

"I had a feeling he would be," Margaery said with a mouthful of cookie. She finished her cookie and licked her fingers. "Was he a twat?"

"You could say that," Sansa snorted, and Margaery grinned. She loved it when Sansa did that - she hated it, but Margaery found it adorable. "He was... nice."

"Sansa, what did I tell you? Nice never means nice," she raised her eyebrows and began drinking Sansa's cup of tea.

"He was just so dull," Sansa admitted. "He didn't shut up about his job or his boss or how much money he made, or his job... I ended up running out on him."

"How?"

"Through the window," Sansa lowered her eyes, blushing, and Margaery howled with laughter. When Sansa looked up again, Margaery had tears in her eyes. "Oh my god! Out of a window, classic!" Margaery laughed, then realised. "Oh god. Your foot! You fell from the window?!" Sansa nodded. "Sansa, I am so, so sorry," Margaery laughed. "I promise, no more blind dates. None. I love you enough anyway, Sansa, you don't need a man." Sansa agreed with her and took her tea back.

*

Margaery and Sansa spent the rest of the day in their flat. Margaery originally had work, but when she had told Davos that Sansa was home-bound for the next few days, Margaery told Davos she too would be staying off. "She's my little one," she told the kindly old restaurant manager. "I'm going to look after her. We'll both be back soon enough." Davos had always had a soft spot for Margaery, so hadn't argued with her. He had enough staff anyway.

Margaery ensured Sansa was well looked after. Sansa managed to get dressed herself, but she did so sitting down on her bed. Margaery made them both a fresh cup of tea, and had a poof with soft pillows on ready so Sansa could keep her foot elevated. When Sansa was dressed, she called Margaery, who helped her into the living room. They spent all day watching TV and chatting. Sansa adored Margaery, and it seemed as if she was more a sister to her than Arya had ever been. 

_'Hey gorgeous, how's your lover girl doing? Can I come round? Love you, B x x x.'_

"Sansa, that was Bronn," Margaery said as she held her phone in her hand. "He wants to come round, but if you'd rather him not, with your foot, that's fine..."

"Not at all," Sansa replied. She was busy eating the chicken soup Margaery had made her. "He's your boyfriend, and this is your flat. Of course I don't mind."

"He is my boyfriend," Margaery grinned. She looked at her background image on her phone - Bronn, pretty much naked, posing with a rose inbetween his teeth, thorns and all. "But this is our flat. We both live here." Sansa grinned and took Margaery's phone from her. She typed back to Bronn, and smiled triumphantly at her friend when the message had sent. "He's on his way."

"I'll get you for that," Margaery winked. "Just you wait..."

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

A knock on the door made Margaery grin. She could always tell when Bronn was there - he had his own signature knock, and Margaery loved it. She stood up and looked at her reflection in the mirror on the living room wall. She had been in a relationship with Bronn, who was thirty, for five years now, and yet she still got butterflies whenever she was with him. He always told her she looked perfect - and he wasn't wrong - but still, Margaery always liked to look her best for him - which she always did. Today was no exception: she had her long hair tied into a high ponytail, her makeup perfect with her signature, killer red lipstick. She was dressed in the tightest black jeans known to man, and a deep teal blouse that hugged her curves. The thing that made Sansa laugh was the fact that Margaery had no shoes or socks on. Unless she was going out, Margaery never wore anything on her feet. "I love the feel of surfaces on my bare skin," she had told Sansa once. "Shoes and socks are for outside. Inside it's skin, skin, skin."

Sansa finished off her soup and continued watching the TV while Margaery greeted her lover. Sansa heard them compliment each other and kiss, and they both entered the living room a few minutes after. Bronn was tall, had a slim yet muscular build, and had dark brown eyes. His hair was also dark brown, but had very recently began to be tinged with grey streaks. His stubbled chin also had a few strands of silver, but you could only really notice those when the light caught them. Bronn worked as a mechanic, and he owned his own garage and repair shop. It hadn't been a huge success to begin with, but last year saw a dramatic rise for his business, and he now made a healthy profit. He adored his Margaery, and loved nothing more than taking her out and spoiling her.

The two lovebirds sat on the sofa, Margaery in the middle of Bronn and Sansa. Sansa smiled and greeted Bronn, and he replied. "She been mothering you all day, has she?" Margaery playfully smacked Bronn on the arm. Bronn was wearing dark blue jeans, black trainers and a red long sleeved shirt. Margaery smiled - she had bought him that shirt for his birthday, the first year they had been together. He had promised her he'd never throw it away, and she felt butterflies in her stomach every single time she saw him wear it. "She's been far too kind to me," Sansa replied. She looked at her best friend. "You didn't have to take care of me..."

"But I wanted to," she sang back. "Besides, it's been fun."

"For you, maybe," Bronn muttered, rolling his eyes at Sansa. Sansa pulled a face, Margaery smacked Bronn again, and he just snorted.

Bronn went into the kitchen to make everyone a cup of tea. While he was gone, Margaery turned to Sansa. "I forgot to ask you this earlier!"

"What?" Sansa frowned.

"After you fell, from the window..." She took a second to compose herself. "You hurt your foot and broke your shoe. How did you get to the hospital? Please tell me you didn't walk..."

"No, I don't think I could have walked there, anyway," Sansa answered. She paused for a moment and remembered the man who came from the shadows last night. Sandor. He hid half of his face from her, that was strange, but she didn't mind all that much. He had terrified her, and yet she hadn't forgotten him. She'd thought about him a few times today, actually...

"How did you get there, then?" Margaery asked. "Did you get a taxi?"

"I was going to, at first," Sansa said, and Margaery frowned now. "I went to the taxi rank, but no taxis were available. So..."

"I don't think I want to hear this," Margaery said. "Go on."

"This guy offered me a lift," Sansa said, and she hated how seedy it sounded out loud. "Before you start, nothing happened. He was a nice guy... No. Not nice." She saw Margaery raise her eyes. "He was... kind. He gave me a lift, and helped me out of the car when we had arrived - right outside the doors to A&E, I might add."

"Who was he?" Margaery asked. "And did you pay him? _How_ did you pay him?"

"Not with sexual favours, if that's what you mean," Sansa stuck out her tongue. "I offered him cash, but he said he didn't want it. And his name was Sandor."

***

Bronn returned at that very moment, carrying three cups of tea in his hands. He set them down on the table in front of the sofa, and sat back down. He cocked his head to one side and stared at Sansa. "Did you just say Sandor?"

"Why?" Sansa's heart had started to race.

"Sandor Clegane?" Bronn asked.

"I never found out his last name," Sansa said, biting her lip. "Do you know him?"

"That I do," Bronn said with a grin. "But you can't have the same bloke. The Sandor I know wouldn't help anybody. He's the most miserable bastard I've ever met, and I know a lot of miserable bas -"

"It could be," Margaery said, digging Bronn in the ribs. He grumbled at her but she ignored him. "What did he look like, Sansa?"

"He was tall," she began.

"That helps," Bronn teased, causing him to receive another dig from his girlfriend.

"Really, really well built. He looked huge, but not fat. He had black hair, kinda long, and it was completely covering one side of his face - the right side."

"If you say that he was miserable and terrifying then we've got a match," Bronn said, moving his hand to his side to protect his ribs. Margaery watched him from the corner of her eye and laughed to herself. "He wasn't miserable, or he didn't seem it to me," Sansa replied truthfully, "but... I suppose, at first, he did scare me a little."

"Close enough," Bronn said. "So yes, that was Sandor Clegane."

"Bronn, how do you know him?" Sansa asked.

"He used to work at my garage," Bronn answered. "He was the most hardworking, toughest man I'd ever employed. Sans, you weren't wrong about him being huge - he was strong, too. He used to lift cars without any machines, no problem. For a time I thought he was a robot."

"You idiot," Margaery sighed, and he grinned sheepishly at her.

"Did you like him?" Bronn asked, and Sansa blushed.

"Bronn, go and make some popcorn, please," Margaery said, giving him an obvious 'leave the two of us alone right now' look. Bronn shrugged and went into the kitchen, closing the door behind him.

Margaery turned to sit sideways on the sofa and looked at her friend. "Did you like him? I've never met Sandor, but Bronn's mentioned him in the past."

"And?" Sansa asked.

"And... I'm not sure. Bronn said, as he did just, he was a good worker. He hasn't worked for Bronn for a few years now, though. I don't know what he does, but he does have a bit of a reputation..." On hearing those words, Sansa felt her heart sink slightly.

"What for?" Sansa asked. "Please tell me. I know I'll probably never see him again, but I want to know."

"It's only a rumour," Margaery bit her lip and took a deep breath. "But... well, you know how you said his hair covered the right side of his face?" Sansa nodded eagerly. "Well, there's a reason for that."

"What?!"

"He has burn scars on that side of his face," Margaery said quietly. "A childhood accident, apparently. I don't know how bad they are, but I've heard they're not pretty. I know for a fact that he's very... sensitive about it. He's known to have quite a temper, and because of his build and strength... a lot of people are afraid of him."

"He didn't seem scary when he was driving me last night," Sansa said thoughtfully. "I'll admit, he did frighten me at first, but that was because he was in the shadows and all I heard was this big, gruff voice..."

"I heard a story a few years back," Margaery continued, "from one of the customers at work. Apparently - this is the rumour - just before he quit working for Bronn, some guys came to have their cars serviced. They were young guys - boys, even. Idiots, all of them. When these boys saw Sandor - and his face - they began making horrible comments. One of them supposedly called him the Phantom of the Opera, and they all asked him where his mask was. Sandor didn't react, but a few weeks later they all ended up in a traffic accident. None of them died, but two of them lost a leg each and the other guy lost a hand." Sansa's eyes were wide and wet. Margaery noticed, and quickly added; "It doesn't mean anything, Sansa. It could have been a really weird coincidence."

Sansa wasn't sure what to feel or think or do. She needed the toilet, so she excused herself and hobbled away. She cooled herself down and gathered her thoughts before she went back to the living room. Bronn and Margaery were cuddled together, eating the popcorn that was in a bowl on Bronn's lap. "Sansa," Margaery said gently, "did you like Sandor? Forgetting all that you've just heard."

"I don't know," Sansa sighed. "He only gave me a lift."  _And you've done nothing but think about him all day,_ she reminded herself. _  
_

"I can see if I have his number still," Bronn suggested. "Only if you want? I can text him, ask for a catch up, see if he mentions anything about you..."

"That could work," Margaery smiled, waiting for Sansa's response. "There's no harm in it, I suppose. You don't have to meet him, but it might be worth finding out if there's something there?"

"I guess," Sansa said after a pause. "I have nothing to lose, right?"

***

The next day, Bronn went to work in his garage and Margaery and Sansa stayed in their flat, watching TV, drinking tea and talking. They didn't mention Sandor, but they were waiting to see what news Bronn had. The three of them agreed that this wasn't a big deal, that nothing would get said or agreed on without all three of them - especially Sansa - knowing. 

Sansa had felt... something, when she had been with Sandor. Hearing the rumours about him scared her slightly, but in a sick way she found herself wanting to know more, to discover the truth - hopefully. That was, if he even remembered her, or wanted to see her again. She knew she shouldn't get her hopes up. After all, it would probably turn out that Sandor didn't remember her. Perhaps he lurked in the shadows often, offering every girl he saw a ride someplace. 

Around noon, Margaery's phone went off. Margaery grinned and read the text aloud. " _'Hey baby, tell your girlfriend I have good news. Messaged the big grump earlier and he replied just now. Meeting him for a pint tonight. Love you, Bronn. x x x.'_ " Margaery grinned at Sansa. "It's a start."

"Doesn't mean anything," Sansa said. "Besides, I never actually said that I liked him...'

"You haven't denied it, either," Margaery teased. "How's your foot today?"

"Not as bad, but it still hurts. Another day or so of rest, and hopefully I will be able to walk again."

"Sex doesn't require you to stand," Margaery winked.

"You're awful," Sansa turned the same colour as her hair and Margaery smirked.

"You wouldn't have me any other way," she said, and Sansa knew it was true.

***

Bronn went round to Margaery and Sansa's flat after work. He had a shower, changed into some black jeans, a deep blue shirt and black shoes, and sat on the sofa with the two girls. "He's meeting me at the Bear and Maiden Fair pub, just on the outskirts of town," Bronn told them. "About eight. Said he can't stay for long, just a quick pint or so." Sansa's heart was racing, and she was confused at herself. Why was she so nervous?

"Remember what you have to say," Margaery said. "Only what we agreed."

"I know, I know!" Bronn said. Margaery raised her eyebrows, and he realised what she was waiting for. "I'm not to mention Sansa unless he does. I can casually ask him what he's up to nowadays, asked him how his weekend was, what he's done over the past few days. I can say how well my relationship with you is going, how I'm the - what was it?" Margaery pulled a face at him. "I know! How I'm the luckiest man alive to have you. I can't mention the rumours, or the incident, or his face. Did I get it all?"

"Well done," Margaery said. "Sansa, are you still alright with this?"

"Yes," she shrugged. "Like I said, I doubt anything will come of this, but..."

"It's worth a shot," Margaery said positively. "Bronn, it's half seven. You need to get going. Text me when you're there. I love you."

"Love you too, pussycat." Margaery giggled and shoved him towards the front door. "Bye, Sans."

"Bye, Bronn," Sansa replied.  _Good luck?_

*

While Bronn went to the pub to meet Sandor, Margaery and Sansa had a girly night in. They both got their pyjamas on, and ordered a Chinese takeout. They had wine, and they played chick-flicks in the background while they gossiped. Margaery spoke about Bronn affectionately - usually she did this by calling him an idiot - and Sansa smiled. They were so in love, it was adorable. Sansa had thought she had been in love once, with Joffrey... how wrong she had been. That hadn't been love. Sansa came to realise that what she and Joffrey had had was far from love.

Sansa couldn't help but think of how Bronn's night was going. She felt anxious, and she didn't want to admit it, but slightly jealous that he was seeing Sandor and she wasn't. She found herself wanting to see him again. She had lain awake last night, thinking about what Bronn and Margaery had told her about him. His burn scars, the accident those boys had been in, how people seemed to be afraid of him... Sandor hadn't appeared, to Sansa, like the monster people thought he was.

"Fess up," Margaery said, sipping her wine. "Was he hot?"

"Who?" Sansa asked. Margaery wiggled her eyebrows and Sansa blushed. "He was... different. He was there when I needed help, so I am grateful to him for that. I -"

"That isn't what I asked," her friend stated. "Was. He. Hot?" Sansa remembered back to that night. As she said, he had scared her to begin with, but when they were in the car, after the first few awkward minutes, she found herself relaxed in his company. His voice had sent shivers down her spine, and the half face she had seen she liked. "He was... interesting."

"You're always so coy," Margaery smiled. "I'm guessing since you're not willing to talk about him, it means yes. Let's just hope tonight goes to plan."

 *

Bronn arrived at the pub just after 8pm. He entered through the wooden double doors and spotted Sandor instantly. Sat at the back of the pub, shrouded in darkness, was the man he hadn't seen in a while. Bronn nodded friendly at the barman, and the few men who were sat around the smoky bar. He walked over to Sandor and waited for him to speak. "You've gone old looking," Sandor rasped, his voice still as distinctive as Bronn remembered. Bronn laughed and sat down opposite Sandor.

"You're still just as ugly," he said. Sandor's eyes flashed at him, warning him, but Bronn knew it was just banter. Sandor could take as good as he gave. Bronn saw that Sandor already had a pint, and a packet of peanuts, so he quickly ordered himself a drink, then returned and sat back down. "So," he said. "How's life?"

"As shit as always," Sandor said. "Why did you ask me here? We haven't spoke in a good while. Did you remember I owe you money or something?"

"Do you?" Bronn asked. "Not important." He sipped his drink. "No, I thought we hadn't seen each other in a while, fancied a catch up."

"Since when did we have a sex change and become women? We don't need to catch up over drinks."

"I could be good and say what I'm supposed to," Bronn took another sip of his pint. "But I see you're still as miserable as you've always been, and I think I can help you change. I don't want to go too far, but you might even... smile."

"The fuck are you on about?" Sandor growled, taking a long swig of his own beer.

"Like I said," Bronn replied, helping himself to a handful of nuts, "I could be a good boyfriend, to my Margaery, and say what I've been told to. But, fuck it. Fuck you, even. You remember that girl?"

"What fucking girl?"

"The one with the bad foot," Bronn said, and he saw Sandor's eyes change. "Red hair, blue eyes, pretty little thing. A little bird tells me you took her to the hospital the other night. I wasn't sure it was you, because the Sandor Clegane I knew isn't nice. The Sandor I knew definitely didn't help damsels in distress..."

"I'm sure you'll make your point eventually," Sandor bit.

"What was her name? The name of the girl you helped to the hospital?"

"Sansa," Sandor replied. As if he could have forgotten her...

Bronn grinned. "Right."

"Right!" Sandor sighed. "What? Why does it matter? She seemed like a sweet girl, she needed a ride. I had a car, I wasn't busy. What's the fuss?"

"Oh, no, it's nothing," Bronn said. He stopped speaking and drank his pint. Slowly. He grinned as he drank, seeing Sandor's face grow more and more impatient. When Bronn had finished his drink, he wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt and went to stand up. "You aren't going anywhere until you tell me why I'm here," Sandor said.  
"Oh!" Bronn laughed. "I think you'll find  _I_ used to be  _your_ boss. I will tell you when I've got another drink." Sandor grunted at him.

"Used to be," he mumbled. "Not anymore. You stupid man. Make that two pints." Bronn grinned and went off to the bar.

Bronn returned, and Sandor pounced. "Come on then, Bronn. Cut the shit, stop the games. What's going on?"

"Sansa," he said, adding emphasis to the name. "Just so happens that she lives with my missus."

"Wonderful." Sandor took a long, deep drink.

"It could be," Bronn said. "I'm not supposed to say any of this, so you can't repeat any of this. We think she might like you, god knows why, poor girl."

"I doubt it," Sandor said, and Bronn felt sorry for him for half a second. "You could be messing with me. Wouldn't be the first time."

"I mean it," Bronn replied. "The way she spoke about you... I didn't get any negative vibes. Only good ones, if I'm honest." Sandor grunted.

He was quiet for a few seconds. Bronn didn't speak either, he just watched Sandor closely. Sandor's eyes burned into Bronn's as he watched him steal even more salted peanuts.

"How's her foot?" Bronn knew it was a good job Margaery wasn't here - she'd have probably squealed and fainted at Sandor's question. He was asking after Sansa! "Still causing her pain, but my Margaery has been like a mother hen, so she won't be in too much trouble. Sansa said she'll be ready to walk on it soon enough, and then she can get back to work and on with her life and stuff..."

"Right."

"She works with my missus," Bronn hinted. "They're both waitresses, at Davos's fish restaurant in town. You heard of it?" Sandor nodded. "It's a nice place to go for a meal out. You should bob some time." He took a moment to laugh at his own pun. "I hear the staff are divine, as well; best in the country. Best in the world!"

"For fucks sake, you aren't subtle, Bronn," Sandor muttered. Bronn raised his glass, winked, and drank. "What are you hoping to achieve here tonight, with me?"

"Nothing at all," Bronn winked. "Just... nice to catch up."

"I'm going now," Sandor said. He finished his drink, nodded once at Bronn, and then left without another word.

Bronn finished his own drink, paused to reflect for a moment, and headed home.

*

Bronn got back to the flat around 10:30pm. Sansa had fallen asleep, but Margaery had been eagerly awaiting his return. As soon as he walked through the door, she jumped at him. She threw him out of his jacket, shoved a cup of tea in his hand and sat down at the kitchen table with him. Her eyes were wide, her smile full capacity, and she stared at him. "Well?!"

"Don't be too mad," Bronn said, and at once Margaery sighed.

"You told him, didn't you?!" Bronn nodded. "Oh, Bronn! We discussed it. Sansa hasn't actually admitted that she likes him. What did he say?"

"He asked about her foot," he answered, and just like he had expected, she flailed. She clapped her hands and screeched.

"Oh my gosh! Sandor doesn't usually care about anybody. Oh my gosh! Did he remember her? Did he seem interested? What did he say!?"

"Calm," Bronn said, and Margaery giggled and sat back down in her seat. "Yes, he remembered her. He did seem interested. His face changed when I mentioned her name. Sandor being Sandor, he didn't give anything away."

"I wonder what Sansa will make of this," Margaery said thoughtfully. "I hope she does like him, and if he likes her - and I get the impression he  _does_ \- we can see about setting them up or something. Who knows, they might be good for each other."

"She'll be good for him, you mean," Bronn said. Margaery tutted at him and yawned.

"I'm going to bed, see you in a bit." She kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck and laughing as his beard tickled her face. "Goodnight, I love you."

"I love you too, pussycat. I won't be long."

Bronn watched her walk away - he loved watching her walk away, or any other time really - and stayed sat at the kitchen table. He finished off the cup of tea that had been made for him, and stood up. He heard his phone vibrate in his pocket, and he took it out and grinned.  _'Davos's fish restaurant? PS. You owe me a bag of peanuts. Bastard. Sandor.'_

 ***

Bronn had left for work early the next morning, and had been gone before Margaery and Sansa woke up. Sansa had woken up and saw she was on the sofa. Margaery had gently helped her lie back, ensuring her foot was raised and protected, and had covered her with an old tartan blanket. Sansa smiled when she saw this, and wrapped it around herself. She carefully pushed herself into a sitting position. The bedroom door creaked open, and Margaery appeared. Her hair was sticking up in places, and she had a grin on her face and a twinkle in her eye that always let Sansa knew she had enjoyed last night with Bronn.

"Good morning," Margaery yawned, making her way to the kitchen. She got out two cups and made tea, then went and sat on the sofa with her best friend. "Davos text me this morning, I'm needed back at work today. I tried to fight him, but he said he'd fire me." Sansa raised her eyebrows, but Margaery laughed. "Relax, sweet one. Davos would never even dream of firing me. He loves me too much." Sansa laughed and Margaery winked. "Will you be alright?"

"Absolutely! My foot is feeling better," Sansa said, and to demonstrate she stood up. Her foot hurt slightly, when she put pressure on it, but she could walk now. She hobbled as she did so, and she had to take her time, but it was a definite improvement. "Hopefully I can go back to work next week. I'm going to try and get used to walking again today." Margaery opened her mouth, so Sansa quickly added, "Only around the flat. I'm not going anywhere else, I promise..."

"Good," Margaery said. "Davos said doesn't want me in until noon, so we can have the morning together..." She looked at Sansa, and knew what she was waiting for. "So, Bronn met Sandor last night." Sansa's heart stopped and she sipped her tea to keep herself calm.

"Oh," Sansa said, "did he?"

"Yes. He remembered you, Sans." Margaery smiled and watched as she saw her friend's face react. First, Sansa did nothing. She was stunned. Sandor had remembered her?! Then she tried to fight it, but soon enough a smile crept upon her own face, accompanied with a faint blush. "Did... did he say anything about m-me?"

"Bronn wasn't specific, but he definitely didn't forget you, Sansa. Bronn told him where we work, and apparently Sandor text him last night, confirming it was Davos's fish restaurant. He might be a new customer. Then you two can talk again..."

"I had a dream about him last night," Sansa blushed. Margaery's eyes grew wide, and she screamed and demanded Sansa tell her every detail.

"Even if it's sexual!" Margaery purred. "Tell me all your dirty little secrets."

"Nothing like that, honestly!" Sansa blushed. "It was just... his face. I heard his voice in my head, and... I remembered how I felt butterflies when he helped me from the car."

"In the dream?"

"No, in real life," Sansa smiled. "When we arrived at the hospital. He opened my door for me, and because my foot was hurting, he held my hand and helped me to stand properly."

"Oh my gosh!" Margaery was positively gleaming. "Sansa, I've never met the man, only know of him from what Bronn has told me, but I never heard Bronn say that Sandor was... charming towards... well, anyone."

"I'm sure he was just being kind," Sansa shrugged. 

"Don't doubt it," Margaery cooed. She sipped her tea, and Sansa did the same.

*

Margaery and Sansa spent the morning watching breakfast TV, and then an old comedy show from the early 80's, and then Margaery had to go to work. She got ready, looking stunning as always in her waitress uniform - Margaery always wore the tightest white blouse and black skirt she had, and it always got her loads of tips at the end of the night. She did her hair and makeup, tying her hair into a high bun. When she had finished getting herself ready, she found time to fuss over Sansa before she left. "Margaery, you're my best friend, not my mother, I'll be fine," Sansa laughed as she accepted another cup of tea. Margaery had told Sansa she had made her some vegetable soup and had left it on the stove. Sansa had gone for a shower, and had returned, fully dressed, and saw the steaming pot in the kitchen. "Have a good day at work," Sansa said cheerily, "tell Davos I am truly, really sorry, and I should hopefully be back in next week."

"I will do," Margaery said. She slipped her feet into her black lace pumps, swung her bag over her shoulder and lunged at Sansa. She kissed the top of her forehead five times, as she always did, and then Margaery left.

*

Sansa did as she said, and spent the afternoon walking. Her foot still caused her some pain, but it was nowhere near as bad as it had been previously. Sansa made short trips, back and to from the living room, the kitchen, the bathroom, her bedroom. She heated some soup up and ate that for her lunch, and then she washed up after. She killed half an hour by watching some TV, but she didn't want to waste time being off her feet. She walked all around the flat, and before she knew it Margaery was home. How was it 6pm already?

Margaery went and changed, then headed straight to the fridge. "God I need this," she said as she took a large sip from her wine glass. She raised it in toast to Sansa, who had also been handed some wine. Sansa sipped hers slowly. Margaery stood up and went and refilled her glass. "Long day?" Sansa asked as her friend returned.

"It wasn't long," Margaery replied, "as such. It was just a pain. We had a new worker, and so I had to train him up." Sansa pulled a face, teasing, and Margaery put her hand over her mouth and laughed. "No, I didn't mean it like that. You were always special, Sansa. Not like the others." Sansa pretended to swoon and batted her lashes.

"What's the new person like then? You said 'him'," Sansa said.

"It's Sandor," Margaery said, and she burst out laughing at Sansa's reaction. "I'm joking! He's called Wayne, but he told me his nickname was Hot Pie. I have no idea why, but he told me while we were getting familiar with the condiments. Oh god, that sounds so filthy."

"You are filthy," Sansa reminded her, and Margaery didn't argue.

"He seems like a sweet enough kid," Margaery said, downing the rest of her second glass of red wine. "He's young, has a proper baby face. He's quite a big lad, but he seemed decent enough. Apparently Davos knows his brother's cousin or something, I don't pay attention to things like that. Davos sends his best wishes, by the way. Did you like the soup?"

"Yes," was all Sansa said, and Margaery shoved her playfully and laughed some more.

***

When Bronn knocked on the door, around 9pm, he wasn't alone. Margaery had been worried - Bronn usually always came round for 7pm. He had his own place, but rarely stayed there. When Bronn hadn't showed up, she began to get worried. She called his phone a few times, but he wasn't answering.

Margaery recognised his knock on the door and was there before Sansa had time to blink. She swung it open, and Sansa heard her exclaim. "Bronn... dor?!"

Sansa saw her wine glass begin to shake in her hands, and she placed it down on the table before she dropped it. She listened again, carefully. She heard Bronn say hello to his beautiful pussycat, then Margaery's giggle. Margaery said something about introductions, Bronn mumbled a reply back, and then she heard  _it_. His voice. Sandor's voice.

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Sansa's wine glass was suddenly empty. She had reached for it and downed it in a pathetic attempt to calm her nerves. She could hear his voice, so deep and manly. He was speaking to Margaery outside, and Sansa grinned as she heard Margaery laughing. Jumping up, forgetting about her slowly healing sprained foot, Sansa quickly checked her reflection in the mirror. She was dressed, wearing an ankle length maroon skirt, black lace pumps similar to Margaery's pair, and a long sleeved cropped jumper. Sansa had done her makeup earlier this morning; casual since she had been inside all day, and her long hair was wavy. Her cheeks had flushed slightly, but Sansa didn't have time to do anything now. The door was opening, and everyone was coming inside. Sansa just had enough time to sit back on the sofa before they were all there.

Margaery came in first, and without saying a word she gave Sansa a look that she understood no problem. She had a mischievous grin on her face, and Sansa had a sneaky feeling Margaery's earlier promise to not set her up again had ended. Bronn came next, smiling just as much as Margaery. He winked at Sansa, which caused her to swallow hard. Her heart was now beating so fast she could feel it, thumping away, each pound for Sandor.

"Look who I found," Bronn announced, obviously to Sansa. Sandor's eyes found Sansa's and she smiled at him. He smiled back, and Sansa saw Margaery nudge Bronn from the corner of her eye.

"H-how's your foot?" he asked, that delicious voice of his sending chills through her entire body.

"Getting there," she smiled. "Look." She slowly stood up, demonstrated how she could stand, and then she carefully took a few steps forward. Damn Bronn had left his phone charger on the floor, and Sansa's foot got caught in the wire. She flew, almost fell, but was caught. Margaery and Bronn both lunged, aiming to catch Sansa and save her, but Sandor had got there quicker. He seemed to have walked the distance of the open kitchen to the living room in a single stride, and he was there before Sansa could fall. Sansa was so embarrassed, but she noticed she was now in Sandor's arms. He had wrapped his arms around them, strong, hairy, protective. He held her steady and kept his arms around her until she regained her balance. He realised what he was doing, so he dropped his hands to his sides and looked at her. She was biting her lip and her face had flushed pink.

"How's your foot?" Sandor repeated, and it made Sansa laugh.

"No different to how it was a few seconds ago when you asked me," she replied, and he smiled fully. The sight of him smiling, happy at something she had told him, gave her butterflies. "Well, good."

"Thank you, for saving me," Sansa gushed. He bowed his head to her a fraction, then bent down and picked up the phone charger. He turned to face Bronn, who raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips at him. "I was wondering where that had gone," he said cheekily, and Sandor huffed at him.

"Be careful," Sandor warned. Bronn didn't react, but Margaery did.

"Sandor! Would you like to stay for dinner?"

"I -" he began, and then stopped. He found himself looking over to her. "I don't want to intrude." Bronn wasn't sure this was the same man he had employed a few years ago. Sandor had once walked into a bar, with Bronn when they had been on a night out, and had made five other men give up their seats in a private booth just by looking at them. Sandor Clegane wasn't known - or back then, anyway - for being courteous, or for caring whether or not he was intruding. What the hell had Sansa Stark done to him?

"You wouldn't be intruding," Margaery insisted. By god, she was going to get this set up right... "Would he, Bronn?"

"Oh, no, no, absolutely not," Bronn said, mocking. "You are most welcome, fine sir. Come, share our table and our meat and our mead."

"Is he pissed already?" Sandor grunted, causing Sansa to laugh - snort laugh - and Margaery to giggle even more. Sandor had heard Sansa's little quirk, and was looking at her with a smirk. She noticed, and rolled her eyes in embarrassment.

"What are we having for dinner?"

"It's Saturday," Margaery replied, "let's get a Chinese takeout. Is that alright with everyone?" Everyone nodded but Sandor. "Don't you like takeout? We don't have to have Chinese, we could have Thai? Pizza? Ind -"

"No, it isn't that," Sandor said, "I just still don't want to intrude..."

"Please stay," Sansa said, causing everyone to stare. She cleared her throat and tried her hardest not to blush. He grinned at her, eyes dancing with her own, and it didn't work. "You won't be, not at all..."

"Wonderful!" Margaery clapped her hands together. "Bronny and I will go and get the takeout." Margaery shot a sneaky wink over to Sansa. "We can stop off and get some wine and beers, if you want?"

"Don't you have wine in the fridge?" Bronn asked as he grabbed his wallet and jacket. Margaery handed him his car keys and he kissed her cheek.

"We did have wine," Margaery answered, "but me and Sansa had a girls night. Wine doesn't last five seconds when it's girls night. Does it, Sansa?"

"I'm afraid not," she grinned. Margaery winked at her as Bronn rolled his eyes.

"Right, me and this one know what we want, Sansa, Sandor, what would you like?" Bronn asked. Margaery ripped a piece of paper from the notepad in the kitchen and grabbed a pen from near the fruit bowl. Sansa saw her and laughed. "Working even when I'm not at work, oh dear."

"I'll have chicken chop suey, no onions, with egg fried rice, please," Sansa said. "I've got some cash in my purse, I'll -"

"Here," Sandor grabbed his wallet, took out a few notes and handed them to Bronn. "Since I'm your guest for the evening, at least let me pay for the food." Bronn went to pocket the money at once, but Margaery tutted and grabbed it from him. "Absolutely not," she said, sounding truly shocked. "You said yourself, you are our guest. You will not pay." Sandor stared at her blankly as she folded the notes back into his hand. Sandor told Margaery his order, which she scribbled down - right next to Sansa's order.

Bronn had got Margaery's jacket out ready for her, and when she had put it on she turned and faced Sansa and Sandor. "We won't be long," she smiled. "Switch the TV on and find a film or something..." Sansa pulled a face at Bronn and Margaery that thankfully went unnoticed by Sandor, which made them both grin as they left the flat.

*

When the door had closed, it was quiet. Sansa and Sandor were both stood in the kitchen, and neither of them knew what was best to say or do.

Sandor couldn't believe how pretty Sansa was. Bronn must have been having him on. He had told him that Sansa liked him, but why the hell would she? He wasn't a nice man, and he was bad enough as he was, and then there was his face... a whole other story. She was so perfect, a beauty that should have the world and more. He wanted to give her that. She deserved it, he knew she did.

Sansa still couldn't process the scale of Sandor. He was incredibly tall, taller than Bronn, and Margaery, and definitely taller than her. He was big, too. Sandor had looked, and she couldn't see a pound of fat on him. Tonight, he was dressed in dark black jeans, an oxblood red shirt and black shoes. Sansa smiled as she noticed they looked freshly polished. He had rolled the sleeves up on his shirt, and even his forearms were large. She had noticed this more earlier, when she had been resting in those arms... Oh god! That thought made her blush, so she tried to forget it quick.

"Would you like something to drink?" she asked, opening the fridge door and turning her hand, inviting him to look. Sandor strode to her side and Sansa grinned at how close they were. She could hear his breathing, smell him... he was wearing aftershave, just enough of it, and he had his own scent, too. Sansa couldn't quite work what it was, but she decided she didn't really care what it was. She liked it, and that was all that mattered.

"I think I'll wait," Sandor's voice sounded behind her, and again she felt those chills riding up and down her spine. "Bronn said he's bringing beer, I'll have one then."

"I'll do the same," Sansa said, closing the fridge door. "Margaery always gets the best wine, and if Bronn's paying - which he probably will - there will be more than one bottle."

It had gone quiet again, and Sansa asked if he wanted to go into the living room. He had nodded, and they both made their way to the sofas. Sansa sat back in the space she had been in before, and it was still slightly warm. Sandor was sitting on the other sofa, to the left of the main one. Sansa picked up the remote and switched on the TV, slowly flicking through the channels. Her eyes suddenly blared as a fire broke out in a hospital that was on the TV, one of those stupid Saturday night drama shows. Sansa's heart raced as she quickly changed channel. Not wanting to be obvious, she changed the next channel at the same pace. She didn't dare meet his eyes. Sandor had seen the fire, and had seen her reaction, but didn't mark her for it. Sansa hadn't been the one to burn him, she shouldn't be made to feel guilty.

Thirty minutes had passed since Bronn and Margaery had left. Sansa probably knew they'd be a while longer yet. She could picture them both now, in the Chinese, probably just sitting there, not even ordering, seeing how much time they could kill. Mr and Mrs Cupid.

"Did you have to wait long to be seen?" Sandor asked, trying his best to make conversation. He was surprised he had done this well. "In the accident and emergency place?"

"Hm?" Sansa had been distractedly staring at him, and hadn't realised that he had just spoken to her. "Oh... No, not long really. Well, long, maybe... fifteen minutes, or so. I wasn't dying, so it wasn't an issue..."

"Glad to hear it," he said, staring right at her.

"Me too," Sansa laughed. She suddenly realised she hadn't got any plates ready for the dinner. "Oh."

"What?"

"Me and Margaery don't like eating our food from the takeout containers," Sansa explained, "so we always use plates. I haven't got them from the cupboard yet. Never mind, I'll -"

"You rest," Sandor said, springing to his feet. He was in the kitchen in all of four strides. "Which cupboard are they in?"

"Second from the fridge, should be at the front. Bronn always eats his from the container, and if that's what you do, then..."

"No, I'm not an animal," he grinned, "I'll use a plate, too." Sansa smiled at him, fully, and felt her face grow warm when he re-entered the living room. This time, instead of sitting on the other sofa, he sat down next to Sansa. He wasn't right next to her, but closer than he had been before...

"So, how do you know Bronn?"

"I used to work for him," Sandor replied. "As a mechanic. I'm one by trade. Well, that and a handyman. Plumbing, building, electrics, I can do it all."

"That's really impressive," Sansa gushed, but he pulled a face.

"It pays bills," he said. "Bronn told me you work at a fish restaurant?"

"Mm, yes," she was surprised at how easily she was now talking to him. He still made her face incredibly warm, and his gruff voice, how it rasped, sent never-ending chills throughout her... Sansa had noticed his face, how the majority of the right side was covered with scars and burned flesh, but so what? Sansa had a scar on her upper thigh and stomach from where she had fallen from a horse years ago. Granted, it wasn't to the scale of Sandor's, but still. Scars were scars, people were people. She was Sansa, and he was Sandor. Sandor, that caused her heart to thump-thump-thump, having him so close...

"I work at Davos's fish restaurant, as a waitress. That's where I met Margaery. I hadn't long moved here, or started working there, and we sort of became best friends overnight. I do love her, she's amazing."

"So are you," Sandor breathed. His face went straight as he tried to recover, but there was no chance. Sansa's face was illuminated, and she smiled at him awkwardly.

"You're too kind," she gushed. "You are a wonderful man, Sandor."

"Sansa..." she could feel his breath on her face. She could smell him, feel the heat radiating from his body. All Sansa knew was that she wanted him to be closer. She saw him sit forwards, edging nearer to her. She gulped as she looked up and saw him, towering over her even when he was sitting. His black eyes seemed lighter now, softer, and they gazed into her own, pools of besotted blue. His hands reached out, carefully, and snaked around her waist. Her hands found the curve in her back and he pulled her to him. She wrapped her own arms around him, clasping her hands together at the back of his neck. She bit her lip and looked at him from her lashes. "Sand-"

His lips crushed against her own, and she sighed. His lips were only slightly rough, but she had anticipated that. In stark contrast, Sansa's mouth was the softest thing he had ever known. Perfectly shaped, the best shade of rose, he wanted to kiss them for the rest of his life. So, so soft, and her breath smelled like lemon. His arms were tight around her waist, and as one of her hands found his hair and began carefully grabbing it, he parted her mouth with his tongue. Christ, even his tongue was big, and that thought, and the kissing, caused a different sensation. Sansa met his tongue with her own, and the pair scraped and bit and panted. She nibbled on his bottom lip, carefully, not wanting to hurt his already bust skin, but he didn't care. It caused him to grunt and kiss her back even harder. He was becoming dangerously aroused, as was she, and they had the flat to themselves...

Sandor took his turn, and bit her bottom lip. She moaned into the kiss and he had never heard anything so erotic in all his thirty three years. With any other woman, Sandor would have probably been fucking her by now. Whenever he had been with a woman in the past, and Sandor could count the number on one hand, he always took them from behind. For a number of reasons, including he preferred that position to the others, but mainly because he didn't want them to see his face and be put off... That had happened to him once before, and he didn't want a repeat. Ever. Sansa was different... He broke the kiss and breathed heavily.

"Did I do something wrong?" she asked, panting.

"No, you did nothing wrong," he replied, "but..."

"We're home!" Bronn called as the front door swung open. He held the bags from the takeout and the smell that now filled the room was incredible. "Put your clothes back on. No peeking, pussycat - at either of them!" Margaery followed behind him, carrying bags with alcohol from the supermarket.

Sansa ignored them both and looked at Sandor, who was still sitting incredibly close to her. From the kitchen, Margaery nudged Bronn, who had been tucking into the prawn crackers. The two of them watched slyly. When Margaery saw Sandor bring his mouth to Sansa's ear and whisper, she gripped hold of Bronn's arms and squeezed it tight. "Oh my god!" She hissed a whisper into his ear.

Sandor had placed his mouth at Sansa's ear. "You did nothing wrong, but I like you."

*

The four of them got their food and drinks - Bronn handed Sandor a beer, and Margaery poured Sansa a more than generous glass of red - and sat in the living room together. Margaery decided she didn't like the view of the TV from the sofa - the sofa she sat on to watch TV every single day - and so made Bronn join her on the other one. The view was much worse here, but it served her purpose. Bronn grabbed the remote and flicked through the channels. The opening credits for Dirty Dancing were on, and Bronn foolishly thought she hadn't seen. "Switch it back," she breathed, stealing a duck spring roll from his plate. "Oi!" he exclaimed, rolling his eyes to Sansa and Sandor, reluctantly changing the channel back. Margaery was sat bobbing along while she ate, and Bronn regretted ever turning the stupid machine on. Margaery absolutely adored the film. When she was younger, she had made her younger brother, Loras, do the famous 'lift' with her. She had attempted it with Bronn once. A very, very drunk Bronn. It resulted in Margaery having a very large, nasty looking bruise on her lower hip, and a memory Margaery would never let Bronn forget.

Margaery and Sansa had been using chopsticks with their takeout. Bronn didn't like chopsticks, but Margaery had explained to Sansa he simply didn't know - and refused to learn - how to use them properly. Sandor had been sat next to Sansa, and watched as she used her chopsticks like a pro. She caught him looking. "What?" she whispered, fighting the blush once more. "Do you want some? We have a spare set, in the drawer..."

"I don't know how to use them," he admitted.

"Leave it to the women," Bronn called, mouth full with rice and pork and sauce. He stole one of Margaery's garlic coated king prawns while she was engrossed watching Patrick Swayze's killer hips. "Stupid fussy things they are."

Sansa perked up. "I'll show you!" She got to her feet, steadily, and made her way to the kitchen. She got the chopsticks from the drawer, then slowly returned. She sat down, and handed him the wooden chopsticks. She saw Margaery look over, but she focused on Sandor. It didn't take much...

"Look how I'm holding mine," she said, showing him her hands. He should have been looking at the chopsticks, but her fingers were just so slender, so long and delicate, with perfectly painted lilac nails. He pictured them scratching down his back, and he coughed. She raised an eyebrow at him, but he shrugged it off and took a sip of his beer. He wanted to kiss each finger and pick a favourite, if that were possible. Screw the chopsticks. But she was teaching him, and goddamn, he would learn. He took a second to see how she held them; one between her middle finger and thumb. "This one shouldn't move," she continued. "Now... that's it, good. The second one, hold it down with your index finger and your thumb... Yeah, that's it! They should be even in length... and now, keep this one steady, and with the other one - yes, that one - push down with your forefinger. Grab your food..." Sandor watched her once more as she showed him, and then he tried. He followed all her steps and remembered all her words, and he thought he had got it.... until a piece of spiced beef flew into the air and onto the floor. Bronn howled with laughter. "Oh, he's Mr Beauty and Grace isn't he?!" Margaery gave him a sympathetic look. Bronn sighed, feeling the silent daggers from his girlfriend, and he set his dinner aside and picked up the food from the floor. He went and threw it away, then sat back down with the remainder of his meal. "Might get to enjoy this last bit..." he grumbled into his food.

Sandor went to give up, but Sansa was determined. "Here," she placed her own hand over his. Her small palms didn't even cover Sandor's by half, and her skin was smooth and gentle. He only then realised that she was pale, her skin like porcelain. When her hand made contact with his, a breath caught stuck in his throat. He disguised it as a cough, and his eyes locked onto hers. "Like this," she said, her voice an enticing whisper. Sansa moved her hand with his own, like a puppet on a string. "Now you try." He looked at her with a doubtful expression, but she nodded at him positively. The triumphant smile on his face when he succeeded gave her fresh butterflies. "I knew you could do it," she grinned.

"Here..." Sandor was holding up a piece of spiced beef. He raised the chopsticks, and she understood. She slowly took the meat from his chopsticks and pulled a face as the spices danced on her tongue and burned her throat. She coughed and he laughed at her, kindly. "Too hot for you to handle?" Bronn grinned.

"Try this," Sansa said, holding a piece of chicken ready for him. Sandor took the food from her, albeit a lot less graceful than she had done, but he swallowed it down and nodded approvingly. "That's good chicken."

*

It was midnight now, and Sansa found herself wondering where the time had gone? Margaery had gone through an entire bottle of red wine - and half of the one she was sharing with Sansa, and four of Bronn's beers - and had cried at the end of Dirty Dancing, like always. "Bronny!" she giggled. "Remember when we did the lift and you forgot to catch me and I nearly broke my back?!" Bronn looked sheepish while Margaery danced round the kitchen holding her empty wine glass, laughing.

"Yes," Bronn replied. "Sandor, another beer?"

"Best not," he called. He was sat on the sofa with Sansa. "I'm going to get going soon, I'm up in... five hours."

"You boring sod," Bronn pulled a displeased face. "No, put that down... Margaery! I think I'd best get this one to bed..." Bronn carefully linked his arms around his girlfriend and guided her to her bedroom. "Say goodnight to Sansa and Sandor."

"Goodnight to Sansa and Sandor," Margaery muttered. Her face lit up just before Bronn closed their bedroom door, and from inside Sansa and Sandor heard her say, "Did they learn how to use the chopsticks? You could teach them, Bronn. You're so good at it..."

Sansa grinned and Sandor raised an eyebrow at her. "She doesn't usually get like that," Sansa explained. "She's a happy drunk."

"I can tell," Sandor said, and Sansa shook her head as she heard Margaery crying with laughter, shouting at Bronn that she didn't want to put her pyjamas on and go to sleep. "You... you did well, with the chopsticks."

"In the end," he said.

Now that it was just him and her again, things felt slightly awkward. That kiss, that entire moment, had been electric; it had sparked a feeling deep inside both of them. Neither had expected it, but neither wanted to let it fade and fizzle away.

"You said you had to go," Sansa said. Worried that she sounded rude, she quickly added, "I mean, if you'd like to stay a while longer, but..."

"I think I will go," he said, stretching his arms. God, she could see his arm muscles straining against his shirt and her face was now hot. "I enjoyed tonight, though." Sansa smiled her reply.

"I'll see you out..."

They walked to the front door and he swung it open. The hallway of the flat was empty, quiet, and she stood in the doorway. "Sandor," she loved his name. She loved the way it sounded and fell from her tongue. She wanted to say the word over and over. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Sansa." He gave her a final smile, bowed and walked away. She felt sad now that he had gone. Being in his presence had made her happy. She certainly didn't fear him, and he wasn't the monster people seemed to have labelled him as. Smiling as she remembered his face, how happy he seemed, when he had managed to properly use the chopsticks... She went to turn around, shut the door, lock up for the night... and then:

"Sansa." He was back. Her eyes went wide, her smile returned.

"Have you left something?" she asked.

"I'm afraid so," he said, his voice gentle, soft, hard all at the same time. He stepped closer, standing high above her, and she gulped. He bent his head down so their lips were just level, and then he kissed her. Once. Softly, gently, only once. It left her breathless, and when he broke away he kept his face close to hers. She slowly opened her eyes, long lashes fluttering, and her mouth was ever so slightly parted. He gave her a half smile, and Sansa felt her heart somersault. "Goodnight, Sansa."


	4. Chapter 4

A couple of days passed by, and finally, after what seemed like forever, Sansa's foot had made a full recovery. She could walk without wincing, or hobbling, and it no longer hurt when she attempted to put socks or shoes on. Margaery was still protective of Sansa, reminding her of the step that was just outside the corner shop, where they had gone to get some fresh milk and a loaf of bread. Sansa phoned her manager, Davos, up last night and had informed him that she was fit, healthy, and ready to come back to work.

"That's wonderful news," he had told her. "We've all missed you. Especially Marge. She looked a little lost without you, if I'm honest. Come in tomorrow with Marge then, do a few hours just to get back into the swing of things."

Sansa was so excited to go back to work. It wasn't her dream job - she ideally wanted to work with animals, perhaps as a vet (she had a strong fondness for dogs) - but she enjoyed working at the restaurant. Davos was lovely, Margaery was the perfect colleague, and the customers were all lovely... most of the time. The other staff were also pleasant people, some Sansa liked more than others... and it paid the bills well enough. Sansa and Margaery were both working the same shift tonight, 6-11pm. They were in Sansa's bedroom, getting ready. They both had their uniforms on: crisp white blouse, black skirt and black lace pumps. Margaery's uniform was a lot tighter and shorter than Sansa's, but Sansa had always been slightly more reserved than her best one.

"We haven't spoken about it properly yet," Margaery said as she lay down across Sansa's bed.

"What?" Sansa asked as she finished applying her mascara.

"The other night," Margaery purred, fishing through Sansa's makeup bag for her favourite dark pink lipstick. Sansa knew what she was looking for, and passed it to her. "You're a good one. Anyway, girl talk..."

"What?" Sansa repeated. She grabbed her black cardigan from the edge of her bed and put it on.

" _Sandor_ ," she said. Her face broke into a smile as she saw Sansa blush, look down and then finally smile to herself. "You  _so_ like him!"

"He's..." Sansa breathed, and remembered the feeling of his hard lips against her own. She thought back to that tongue of his, how it had seemed to know every inch of her mouth without even trying. His stubble had been rough against her skin, but she didn't care. "I... yes, maybe I do like him."

"We saw you two break away," Margaery raised an eyebrow mischievously. "Should we have waited another... half hour? More maybe?"

"Stop it," Sansa blushed. "We only kissed."

"And if we hadn't walked in right then, what? I saw the way he looked at you, Sansa. He looked like he wanted to kick me and Bronn out and tear your clothes off - with his teeth, probably." Margaery giggled to herself and Sansa got lost in her own twisted thoughts. She suddenly remembered she had to go to work soon - they both did - and she quickly finished getting ready.

"He broke away from the kiss," Sansa said pensively. She and Margaery were ready now, and were in the car on their way to work. "He stopped... I was slightly worried, thinking it was because I'd done something-"

"Absolutely not!" Margaery interjected. "You are an _amazing_ kisser, dear."

"Many thanks," Sansa laughed. That had been one very, very drunken night... "But then he said it was because he liked me."

"Oh my god, Sansa, that's the cutest!" Margaery swooned. "Most men want a quick fuck and then it's goodnight vienna. Bronn was like that before he met me... Sansa, don't take this the wrong way, but I bet Sandor was like that too. The majority of them are..."

"But?"

"But," Margaery said as she pulled up into the staff carpark round the back of the restaurant. "I have a feeling he wants to wait, for you and him to both be ready for each other."

*

Davos beamed when he saw the two girls approaching him. Davos Seaworth was the manager and owner of the restaurant, named The Red Keep. Margaery had always questioned the choice of name, but Davos had told him it was something to do with his childhood. The restaurant specialised in fish dishes. Davos was a keen lover of the sea, and had always thought he had been a captain in a previous life. Davos had gone to train to be a chef when he was a young lad, and in his first week he had lost three fingers on the same hand. Margaery had told Sansa, before she went for her interview, that he was 'handless'. Despite having a few fingers missing, Davos worked hard and surprised everyone with his talents. He had trained for a few years with top professionals in the city, and eventually moved away and opened up The Red Keep. Business had been slow at first, but now, almost twenty years later, he had full tables every night. Davos was a good hearted, kind old man. He stood just taller than Sansa, smaller than Margaery, and he had mousy brown hair and a beard to match. Both were now wearing away and turning grey with age. He wasn't a handsome man, but he was loved by all of his staff and customers. He was married, but his husband, Stannis, worked away a lot, and so now their relationship was mainly a Skype one.

Margaery and Sansa put their jackets and bags into the staffroom, then went down into the main kitchen with Davos. On their way down, Davos asked Sansa how she was feeling. "Better, thank you," Sansa smiled as she carefully walked down the steps. "I'm sorry for taking time off, but-"

"Do not worry, Sansa," Davos replied. "Your health and wellbeing come first. I'm just pleased you're better, and back at work now that you are." With that, he opened the door and they entered.

The kitchen was fairly sized, with plenty of ovens and hobs and microwaves and work counters. Davos had two chefs, one trainee, and a handful of kitchen staff. Margaery and Sansa were two out of eight or so waiters and waitresses. One of the other waiters, a thin boy named Lommy, spotted Sansa and Margaery and nodded over to them. They returned the smile, and then Sansa felt Margaery nudge her. "Look over there," she said as she directed Sansa with her eyes. "That's Hot Pie, the new one." Sansa looked over to the sinks, where the poor boy was sweating away, busy blasting the oily pans before putting them into the dishwasher. "He seems sweet," Sansa whispered, and Margaery rolled her eyes.

"Right you lot," Davos said, rolling his sleeves up and showing them all the specials board. "Let's get to it."

*

The shift was fun, busy, and over really quick. Davos had introduced a new meal to his menu - haddock and onion soup. A few diners had been skeptical about it, but many others were loving it and asking Davos for the recipe. Sansa chatted with Danielle, one of the other waitresses, and found out that since Sansa had been away, Danielle had broken up with her boyfriend, Max, and was now dating his best friend, Tommy.

A few of the regular customers spoke to Sansa, while she took their orders, when she served their food, and again when she collected their plates and handed them the bill. All of them said they were happy she was back, a few even told her they had missed her and the excellent service she gave. In true Sansa Stark style, she had returned their compliments with a dazzling smile, the blush of her cheeks and a small, not completely shy laugh.

Sansa had just been refilling the ice trays behind the drinks bar, and Margaery swayed over to her. She had a sneaky look around, then pulled her phone from her apron pocket. "Bonn's asked me to stay at his tonight," Margaery got a clean glass and filled it with ice to make it seem like she was actually working. "Do you mind?"

"Why would I?" Sansa asked. "You don't need to check with me, he's your boyfriend, if you want to see him then see him. I'll be fine."

"You'll be on your own," Margaery sounded sad. Sansa wondered whether Margaery wasn't keen on the idea of being away from her. After all, they'd spent the past few days with each other constantly, so...

"I'll be fine," Sansa repeated, grabbing a chopping board and beginning to slice lemons. She sniffed up and smiled. She loved the smell of lemons, and she loved lemon cakes even more... "I'll just relax and watch a movie or something."

"You could invite Sandor over," Margaery winked. "Don't feel shy, the flat is as much yours as it is mine. Hell, me and Bronn have christened every room -  _apart from yours, I swear it._ You and Sandor need to -" Margaery smirked as Sansa shoved her away.

"Get back to work, slacker," she shook her head and rolled her eyes. "And shut up about it." Margaery grinned, blew her a kiss and went back into the kitchen.

*

Bronn was waiting at his. Margaery was going to drive back home with Sansa, get changed and then drive over to Bronn's when she was ready. The restaurant had closed now, Davos pleased with the turnover, and the kitchen staff were all helping to tidy away for the end of the night. Margaery and Sansa were cleaning the cutlery over in the corner. "I can stay in," Margaery said. "If you want me to..."

"No," Sansa said, "really, I think I can survive one night away from you."

"I don't think I can," Margaery gushed, and Sansa once again shook her head.

"You and Bronn will have a wonderful night together," Sansa said positively. "You always say you love it when you go round Bronn's."

"I do," Margaery smiled. "I think it's just because you hurt yourself, and I want to make sure you're definitely..."

"I'm not listening to you anymore," Sansa laughed. She grabbed the tray of freshly polished cutlery and placed it away in the cupboard. Margaery did the same, and then they both went into the kitchen to say goodnight to Davos. "Ladies, it's only quarter to."

"We've done all of our jobs, earned you lots of money, we have our tips," Margaery replied cheekily, "and I have a date with my Bronny. It takes time to look perfect, you know. Those extra fifteen minutes will help me so much." Words not quite enough, she used her charm offensive. Fluttering her long, dark lashes, she walked over to him. "Come on, Davos, I'll work fifteen minutes later next time."

"You said that last week," Davos grunted, smiling. He gave a gentle nod of his head. "See you later, girls."

*

Sansa and Margaery left the restaurant and made their way to the carpark. A figure was stood against the low wall, near Margaery's blue mini. She stopped, cautious, but Sansa was suddenly beaming. She'd recognise that shadow anywhere. "Margaery, it's him," she whispered, heart thumping. "It's Sandor."

"Looks like we now both know who you'll be doing tonight," she laughed, but Sansa smacked her gently.

"Stop it," she hissed, and together they both walked to meet Sandor.

"Evening, Sandor," Margaery smiled. "What are you doing out here?"

"I... I wanted to see if Sansa wanted a ride home," he said quietly. "Bronn text me and told me you were both at work, so I thought... no, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..."

"Sansa does need a ride home," Margaery said. She quickly unlocked her car and hopped into the passenger seat. She locked the doors and opened her window. "I would take Sansa but I'll let you take her tonight." Sansa shot Margaery a look which only caused her grin to widen. Sandor didn't notice the wink she shot him, or understand the words she had spoken... Sansa knew full well what she had meant, and that is why her cheeks were suddenly flushing. Margaery beeped her horn and drove off.

"God, she's anything but subtle," Sansa smiled, sitting next to Sandor on the wall. It was cold, and Sansa felt stupid now in her work uniform, but Sandor didn't mind. Actually, she looked pretty damn good. God, her shirt was just a little tight over her breasts, and he tried his hardest not to look... At her shapely legs in those tights and that skirt... He coughed and she turned her head. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he said, harsher than he had intended. He tried to save it with a smile. "Want a ride home then?"

When they were both sat in his black BMW, Sansa's new favourite car, they stayed in the carpark a while. "Margaery won't leave if we go back yet," Sansa laughed. Sandor laughed too, but Sansa knew it was forced. "How was work?"

"It was fine," she answered, smiling. "I was happy to be back there."

"It seems like a nice place," Sandor commented.

"It is, you should try it sometime."

"Perhaps, I will," he toyed with her, allowing a small smile to form on his lips.

It was quiet for a few moments, and something had been worrying Sansa. She cleared her throat and decided to be brave. "Sandor?"

"Mm?"

"W-why haven't you been in touch? I know we don't have each others numbers, but I thought Bronn would have said something if you had..."

"I'm sorry," he sighed. "I didn't mean to ignore you."

"Why have you been, then?" Sansa asked boldly.

"I'm going to sound stupid," Sandor grunted.

"Tell me," she spoke softly, and she placed a hand over his. It sent chills up both their spines, and Sandor closed his eyes and breathed.

"I don't think you want to be involved with somebody like me," he said. "In whatever sense. I'm hideous, Sansa, you've seen my face." He sighed. "Most women, in the past, they... well, it didn't matter what they thought, but you... you matter to me." Sansa's heart broke for him.

"You are not hideous at all," she said. "I will decide who I will and will not be involved with, thank you. Sandor, yes, I've seen your face. So what? I don't care. I like you, Sandor. And don't pull the face card on me. Look at this." Sansa lifted up her blouse, revealing firm, pale skin. "Look here..." She used the torch on her phone to point towards her stomach. "I have a scar, too. Did this when I was seven. Me and my sister, we were horse riding. There was a storm, and my horse bolted. I fell and hit a tree trunk that had been chopped down. Do you find me hideous because of it?"

"No, no, Sansa, you're... you can do so much better," he said, and his voice still sounded so broken.

"I can do a lot worse," she told him, lifting her blouse back down, thinking of that pig of an ex Joffrey, and the ever so thrilling Lancel Lannister...

"Don't play games with me," he warned, and she raised an eyebrow at him. "If you're doing this out of pity, or because Bronn put you up to it..."

"Please stop doubting my feelings," she said. Deciding actions spoke louder than words, she decided to prove to him.

Sansa leaned over and grabbed his face. Her small hands didn't hold much of his face, but enough to hold him steady. She looked into his eyes, black as night, and heard him let out a very low growl of arousal. She cast her eyes to his shame, and he tried to pull away. "No," she whispered. "No..." Sansa very gently placed her mouth on the burned side of his face, just next to his eye. She kissed him once, soft as a feather, and then looked him in the eyes again. "If I have you, Sandor," she breathed, "it will be all of you." 

She led their kiss this time. Hands still holding the back of his neck, she leaned forwards again and their lips met. He bit her bottom lip right away, and the shock caused her to moan softly. His arms were back where they belonged; around her waist. He held her tight, concentrating on that mouth of hers. It welcomed his own so willingly, lips parted, accepting his tongue eagerly. Her mouth was hot, wet, perfect for his own. Their tongues scraped against each other, both of them hungry for more. Sandor's erection was pressing against his trousers now, and he wanted nothing more than to take her, right here and now, in his car. The carpark was dark, empty, perfect. He imagined it in his head...

*"Come here, now," he growled, and he saw how her eyes danced at the command. He had a feeling Sansa would like being told what to do... He lay his seat down flat, and he lay back. He had unbuttoned his trousers and had slipped them down his muscular legs. They were on the floor now, near the pedals. His cock was begging to be free from his boxers, blacker than his eyes. He nodded his head, and Sansa understood. She was so hot now. She leaned over again and slid his boxers down his legs. What was now before her was enough to turn her face the deepest shade of scarlet. She had expected him to be well endowed, but not to the size he actually was. Sandor's cock was large, long and thick, just as he was everywhere else. Sansa let out a low, silent moan and he heard. He grinned smugly. Without another word, Sansa's hot lips were on him, and he grunted and threw his head back. She worked his shaft with her hand while she pleasured him with her mouth. His hands found her head and he kept them there. Sansa was so wet, she ached for him. He was so big that she couldn't even fit half of him in without gagging, but this turned Sandor on even more. Him and his dark fantasies about her... Soon enough, he was close, and without warning he came. Sansa didn't like the taste, but she swallowed it all and pulled a face. He chuckled, and then grabbed her and quickly helped her out of her burden. When her tights, skirt and green lace knickers had been removed, and thrown... wherever, he grabbed her hips and set her down on his lap. She placed her knees either side of him, and took in the view. She was wet for him, clearly, and he could smell her. Her sex was covered with a thin set of curls, darker than the hair on her head. Sansa moved his hand and gently stroked up her folds. His finger slipped straight in, and he grinned at just how wet she was. He teased her, and she moaned into his shoulder, shaking on top of him. He pumped his single finger in and out of her a few times, and soon she was begging. "Please..."

"What do you want?" he rasped into her ear, feeling her grow even wetter. His leg was now damp, but it caused his erection to grow stronger in what seemed like no time at all.

"I want you to fuck me," she moaned. He growled, and slowly eased Sansa onto his cock. She had made him ready and raring to go again. Damn that girl.

He knew he was big, so he took his time. She moaned from the very beginning, when just the tip was in, and she closed her eyes and bit down on her lip. "Sandor!"

Inch by inch he eased her down, and when he was fully in she shot her eyes open. "Oh god..."

He grinned at her and held her hips. Slowly, he began thrusting. She came almost instantly, and couldn't get over the amount of pleasure she felt. Once she was more settled with him so deep inside her, he picked up the pace. Sansa was on top, and she worked as well; bouncing and rolling her hips to meet his movements. Sansa could _feel_ him inside her, feel how she was opening up to take his size. Sandor used his thumb on her already sensitive clit and she exploded, gushing down onto his cock, screaming and panting his name. "Oh god!! S-Sandor... fuck me, oh god. Yesssss..."

Sandor came when she did, both of them riding their orgasms out together. Afterwards, Sansa sat on his knees and they cooled down, sweat glistening on their bodies, the windows of his car steamed up completely...*

He kissed her forehead. He decided to give Sansa credit. She seemed to genuinely like him, although he didn't understand why. She was the most incredible girl he had ever known, and for some reason she wanted him. Sandor was a changed man now, so perhaps he did deserve this. Not many beauty's wanted the beast, and he was interested to see where this would go... He kissed her cheek and started his engine. "Margaery is staying at Bronn's tonight," Sansa told him as they drove to the flat. "So, I was wondering... do you want to stay for a bit, keep me company? We can order takeout?"

"Sounds good to me," he smiled, trying but failing to forget that incredible fantasy he had just experienced. "I can show you my master chopsticks skills. And please, before you say anything, I shall pay. My treat." Sansa beamed at him, and Sandor felt his heartbeat increase as he felt her hand settle on her own on the gearstick.


	5. Chapter 5

The doorbell rang, and Sansa's face lit up. "Food's here!" Sandor smiled at her, and watched as she walked to the door. She opened it, paid the delivery boy - Sandor had handed her some notes - and took the food, returning to the living room. Sandor was sitting on the main sofa, the sofa on which they had first kissed, and the memory flashed across Sansa's mind as she sat down in her seat again. Sansa had already got the plates - and chopsticks - out ready. Once they had put their takeout onto plates, and Sansa had insisted that Sandor have something to drink, they sat back and enjoyed their food. Sansa, like always, had chicken chop suey, with no onions and egg fried rice. Sandor had been the one to call up and order their food, and it have given Sansa butterflies how he had remembered exactly what she ordered. Sandor once again had spiced beef with peppers and rice. He looked over at her and grinned. "Watch this," he said confidently. He remembered her teachings, and successfully used his chopsticks to eat a few pieces of beef and pepper together with a small amount of rice. Sansa beamed at him proudly. "I told you," she sang, grinning as she used her own chopsticks.

When they had finished eating, they set their empty plates and used chopsticks on the floor and came together, closer. The TV had been on, some comedy show or other. The flat was peaceful, and quiet, and empty. Sansa had a day off work tomorrow, and she had planned to tidy the flat. It wasn't untidy, but tidying always soothed Sansa and she always felt a lot less stressed in a clean environment. "Do you have any plans for tomorrow?" she asked.

"I have work," he replied, sipping his beer. "Working on a house for an old lady. She's nice enough, the pay is good, but she doesn't like me. Not many people do." He grunted a laugh, and Sansa gave him a pitiful look. "I can't see why," she said genuinely. "You're lovely."

"Not always, and I wasn't in the past," he said. Not wanting to open up that door, and those skeletons, he said; "Why?"

Sansa was going to ask him why he hadn't always been nice, why he hadn't been nice in the past, but decided to play it safe. Things were still... unsteady, uncertain, between them. "I was wondering if you wanted to do something." He didn't respond right away, and it worried her. "Unless... if you're busy, or you have other plans, it's fine. I just..."

"I don't have to be in work until eleven tomorrow," Sandor told her. He realised it may have sounded like he was coming on too strong, so he added, "But I finish at five. We could do something then - after?"

"I'd like that," Sansa moved closer on the sofa so she was right next to him. Christ, she still could not get over how huge he was. She blushed, imagining him bearing over her, hot and heavy and grunting, and she cleared her throat. He froze at first when he felt her, sensing the way she curved her body into his own, sharing his warmth. "You're cold," he stated, and she nodded. She could have quite easily gone and put a jacket on, her bedroom was less than ten feet away, but she sat still. She nuzzled into him further, and then he realised. He took his arm and scooped it under her arm, pulling her in closer. She let out a contented sigh; was pleased of the new heat she now had, and finally closed her eyes. She felt so happy, so secure...

They both stayed this way for at least half an hour, not talking, just doing nothing. She had warmed up enough by now to not need to share body heat, but still she stayed where she was, in Sandor's arms. "How old are you?" he asked her quietly.

"Hm?" Sansa's blue eyes were once more gazing up into his own, blacker than night and deeper than hell. "I"m twenty..." She ended her sentence in a question without asking it. "I'm thirty three." Sansa pursed her lips. She had known from the beginning he was older than her. Age had never been an issue to Sansa - Joffrey had been two years older than her, and boring Lancel had been twenty seven...

"Does it bother you?" she asked him, staring at the TV.

"Not really," Sandor rasped. "The fact that you... want me, want to be with me is... that bothers me enough."

Sansa took his comment the wrong way, and suddenly got all flared up. "It bothers you?" she looked right at him, eyes beginning to grow wet from heated tears. "Why?"

"No, I didn't mean that..." he said, calmly. "I just meant..."

"Meant what? That because I want you, because I want to be with you, it bothers you? Well if it bothers you then forget it. Forget me. Just see yourself out." Sansa stood up and walked into her bedroom, slamming the door shut. Why had he said that? It didn't bother Sansa that she wanted to be with him, so why did it bother him? Without sounding harsh, Sansa had thought he'd be more pleased than bothered.  _  
_

She burst into tears and didn't care that he was still there. He stood up and walked to her door, stood outside. He tapped on it once and spoke her name. "Sansa... I didn't mean it the way you thought." He heard her sniff and he sighed. "Just let me explain, please."

"Go away," Sansa said huffily. She hated that she probably seemed childish. "If it bothers you to be with me then I'll free you from your burden."

"No," he growled, still calm. He banged on the door. "Let me in, or come out here. Let me explain."

"Tell me from here," came her reply after a few minutes. She really liked Sandor, and she decided he at least deserved the chance to tell her the truth. What she'd do then she had no idea...

"I am not having a conversation with a door," he said, biting his lower lip. "I will come in if I have to."

"You wouldn't dare," she was egging him on, they both knew it. He grinned wickedly and gently kicked the door. Sansa had shut it firmly, and the smallest, softest touch from his foot caused it to swing open.

*

Her bedroom was fairly sized for a flat, and she had a double bed on the back wall, covered with stuffed animals, mostly dogs, and a few patterned cushions. Her walls were a dark blue grey colour, and Sandor noticed she had lots of porcelain wolves on her desk; a pack of them. Sansa was sat on the edge of her bed. "You could have broken my door," she pursed her lips.

"I'm a handyman, Sansa," he replied arrogantly. "I can fix broken doors with my eyes closed." Sansa muttered something, but he didn't hear what it was.

"Explain then," she said, rising to her feet. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"I only mean it bothers me because it's so hard to believe," he replied, and his new statement didn't win him any favours. She scoffed at his new words and walked up to him. She went to walk past him, go into the bathroom, somewhere to get away from him...

"Hey." He grabbed her wrist, not ungently, and held her firm. She let out a small gasp and she gulped, heart beating fast. He stepped back, pushing her against the wall. "Sandor," she whimpered, but he didn't have it. "Look at me." Her eyes were fixed on the floor. " _Look at me._ " His grip on her tightened only slightly, and she slowly raised her wet eyes to him. "Understand what I say to you." She bit her lip. "See it from my perspective. I am disgusting, no more than a dog to some people. You think it's easy, looking like me, having  _this_ with me every day of my life?" He indicated to the side of his face that was scar tissue and forgotten flesh. Sansa didn't respond. "It isn't. Do you want to know how it happened? My brother, Sansa. My own family did this to me.

I was a child. I was six and he was fourteen. He had never liked me. He had a new bike bought for him for christmas one year, and I had one too. His bike was bigger than mine, and my brother was bigger than me. My mother and father had gone to church one night, left my brother in charge of me until they got back. Back when I was a boy, in my family home, we had a big open log fire. Oh, hell, I used to love sitting by the fire. I used to love the heat and would sit and watch the flames burning away, enchanted by the colours and the noises it made. I had been out for a ride on my brothers bike, only once, around the block. It had obviously been far too big for me to ride, and I had fallen from it. My knees were the only things that got hurt, but his bike rolled down a hill, through busy traffic and into a lake. When they eventually fished it out, it had all broken and fallen to pieces. My mother and father weren't mad, they just wanted to make sure I was alright. The bike incident happened the day  _before_ my brother had been in charge of us. That night, he came and sat by the fire with me. He always knew I sat by it before bed. He told me he wasn't angry about the bike, that our mother and father had said he could have a newer bike, a better one. I smiled, thinking he was genuine. I went to hug him, and when I did..."

Sansa was already crying, hating that she could tell was coming next. Sandor's eyes and face were full of pain, and the right side of his face flashed, as if the burned cells were remembering. "He took my face and pressed it against the logs. I can't remember how long for, but I remember praying for death. The pain was so incredible, I thought I was going to turn into fire itself."

"Oh, Sandor..." Sansa was still firmly set in Sandor's hold, but her face was wet and she pitied him. "I'm so sorry..."

"That happened when I was  _six_ ," he said grimly. "I'm thirty three now. You can imagine, my life has been a basket of roses since then. People never stare at me, they never call me a freak, a monster, the Phantom..." Sansa felt fresh tears run down her face. "And the girls all love me. Betting with their friends to see who can sleep with me... One woman even cried when I spoke to her. She had just been mugged, and I went to offer her help. She screamed at me as if I had mugged her, and ran away screaming."

"I..."

"Yes," he said. "You. Can you see, now, why it bothers me? Sansa... you are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen, known. I saw you that night you broke your shoe. I wasn't going to help you. I wondered if you'd be like that woman who got mugged. I half expected you to run away on your injured foot, rather hurt yourself more than have to stand and look at me. I was stunned when you spoke to me, and when you got into my car and allowed me to give you a ride... that look we shared, before the ambulance came... I was sure I was dreaming. I had to be."

"Sandor..." His finger came to her face and gently wiped away the tears.

"Your age doesn't bother me," he breathed. He rested his head in her neck, warm and rising and slowly falling. She felt his own tears drip down onto her chest, but she knew she shouldn't say anything. "The only thing that bothers me is that you are too good for me. Sansa, you are everything that is good about this wretched world, and I'm the wretched that makes it."

"You shall never be wretched in my eyes," she whispered, stroking his hair and kissing the top of his head softly. "I... I want to be with you, Sandor. I told you earlier, if I have you I will have all of you. I want your face, burned side and all. I don't care. I see you as a person, not those marks on your face."

"You're crazy," he said. He lifted his head and straightened, eyes dry, towering above her once more.

"That I may be," she smiled. "But do you want to know what else I am?"

"What?"

Sansa grinned and reached onto her tiptoes. She pressed her mouth to his ear and whispered; "Yours."

*

Sansa had fallen asleep in his arms. When she woke, just after dawn had broke, she looked up and saw him. His scarred face was resting on the edge of the sofa, eyes shut peacefully. Sansa remembered his tale, and wondered how often, when he was younger, perhaps even now, did he sleep to forget. Did he dream of when he was a boy, before the incident? Sansa's heart ached for him. Despite everything, she accepted him for who he was, and knew she'd never want him to change the way he was.

She carefully slipped out from his arms, arms that had been cradling her so tenderly. His hands had clasped themselves in a human lock around her body, and she had fallen asleep resting on that broad chest of his. She stood and watched him for a few seconds. How tiny he seemed now, in sleep. She smiled as he began to snore, and after a few more seconds of watching, she went off for a shower.

Margaery knew more than anyone that shower time was performance time for Sansa. Ever since she had been little, when her parents had bathed her, she had sang all the songs she knew. Mainly pop songs, but most of the time Sansa sung whatever was in her head. Sansa hopped into the shower and freshened up. She sang, too, of course. Today's song choices were the greatest hits of Beyoncé. She always used the same scented shower gel - lavender and poppy blossom. It made her skin super smooth, and she loved the smell. She washed her hair, and wrapped it in a towel when she was done. She stepped out of the shower and wrapped her body up in other towel, tying it to her side.

She unlocked the bathroom door and was greeted by the smell of fresh, hot toast and bacon. She looked over and grinned at Sandor, who was knocked for six when he spotted her. She had a fresh face, pink from the heat of the shower - and for seeing Sandor again. Her hair was in a towel on the top of her head, but a few loose strands of red were sticking to her neck. Her collarbone was defined, drops of water not yet evapourated, and he felt a stirring in his trousers. She smiled at him, shyly, and it made him even more aroused. _Goddamn that girl_ , he cursed.

"You... you're making breakfast?" she smiled, staying where she was in the archway of the bathroom. He nodded.

"I hope you didnt mind," he said as he turned the kettle on. "I don't want to seem like I'm..." He wanted to say 'moving too fast?' 'overstaying my welcome?', but he said nothing.

"No," she breathed. "It all looks wonderful. I'll just go and..." She gestured her hands towards her in a towel. In nothing but a towel. He nodded and turned away, pretending to be deciding which cups to get from the cupboard. In reality, he had to turn away or else there would be trouble. "See you in a minute, then." Sandor selected two cups, both a shade of baby pink, and set them down on the side. He nodded at her and went to check on the bacon, which he had done in the microwave.

Sansa appeared ten minutes or so later. She kept her makeup off, but had dried her hair. It was now a storm of red, long and straight but full of volume. Sansa was sure she had felt Sandor playing with it last night, but then again she wasn't entirely sure it hadn't been a dream.

She was wearing skin tight jeans and a thin green blouse with no sleeves. Her feet were bare, and she agreed with Margaery. The feeling of the flooring on her bare skin was better than when in socks. She walked over to him and smiled. She took the cup of tea he held out for her and drank. "Mm," she said. "It's nice, thank you."

"I hope you didn't mind me staying last night," he said as he took the bacon from the microwave. The smell filled the air and it was delicious. Sansa's stomach rumbled and she laughed. He had already laid the toast out, and placed a few pieces each on their plates. "No," Sansa replied. She walked over to the kitchen table, as did he, and they sat opposite each other. "I wasn't sure whether to go or not," he admitted. "I did decide to move at one point, just after you fell asleep, but..." Sansa bit into her breakfast. Soft, buttery toast and smoked crisp bacon. It was food heaven. "But you didn't want to budge. I wasn't sure if you were dreaming, but you whispered 'don't go'. I stayed for a while longer, and then before I knew it I was waking up this morning. Again, sorry, if... if this is too much, or too soon, but... I wanted to say thank you for last night."

"Not at all," she grinned. "You are a very comfortable person to sleep with." Her face blushed bright red as she corrected herself. " _On_."

Sandor drank some of his tea, was pleased with how good the breakfast tasted, and when he was done he stared at her. "You have a pretty voice." Sansa looked at him and felt her cheeks colouring again. "Thank you."

"You reminded me of a little bird." Sansa raised an eyebrow at him. "Singing, chirping away." He smiled at her fondly.

"I'll be your little bird." Sansa had meant to think that sentence, a private thought. He could be hers, she could be his. Sandor Clegane's little bird. He gave her a look from across the table that gave her butterflies stronger than anything she had ever known before. He wanted to kiss her so badly. Nobody had ever shown him such devotion or trust or... any good feeling.

Sandor collected their empty plates and cups and placed them in the sink. He went to wash up, but Sansa told him to leave it. She looked at the clock on the wall. "It's half ten," she told him. "Didn't you say you had work at eleven?"

"Yes," he grunted. He didn't want to go to work now. He never wanted to leave her side. "I can come and see you after, if you still want me to?"

"Definitely," she breathed. Sansa had walked over to him in the kitchen. She leaned against the counter and looked up at him. "Do you have any plans?"

"One or two," he grinned. Sansa went to open her mouth, to ask him what for. She never got the chance.

His arms were around her again, and she felt him lift her so she was sitting on the side. His hands were right around her waist, and she parted her thighs and he stepped between them. Her long legs wrapped around his massive frame and she locked her ankles together tight. They both breathed and he took in the sight of her. "God, you are beautiful..." Sansa moaned as she guided his mouth down onto hers. She was slowly getting used to the roughness of his lips. She had one hand on the back of his neck, steady, and the other one had found its way to his face. He flinched when her fingers lightly touched it, and he growled, but she knew it was due to arousal and not aggression. He nibbled on her bottom lip and she cried out. He knew he'd have to stop soon. He was once more raging, but he had to go to work in... fifteen minutes. It took him that long to drive there. Sansa's mouth hungrily kissed his own, pulling him closer and snaking her tongue into his mouth. He grunted lowly and forced himself to break away. They both panted, heavy, and Sansa felt herself aching for him. "Sandor..."

"I'm so sorry," he breathed. He pressed his forehead to hers. "Little bird. I have to get going, but I'll see you tonight." He gently set her down from the side, and she followed him to the door. As he opened it, Margaery's eyes grew wide and she  _stared_ at Sandor. "Morning," she said suspiciously. Sandor flashed her a grin.

"Good morning, Margaery." He turned to face Sansa, who knew what was coming by the look on her best friend's face. "I'll see you tonight. I'll be round for you about seven."

"Bye..." Sansa smiled up at him, and her smile only grew when he bent down and kissed her cheek. He turned, nodded at Margaery, and then left.

Margaery grabbed Sansa by the arm, dragged her inside and slammed the flat door shut. She threw Sansa onto the sofa, leapt down next to her, and was almost as breathless as Sansa and Sandor had been. "Spill."

*

"Don't you have work soon?" Sansa asked, looking at the clock. It was now eleven - Margaery had work at noon.

"Yes," she muttered. "Doesn't matter.  _Spill_."

"Nothing happened," Sansa replied, fighting the blush. "I -"

"'Nothing happened'," she repeated. She tutted. "Why was Sandor leaving the flat this morning then? Did he come round for an early morning cup of tea?" Sansa sighed - she knew very well that Margaery knew very well Sandor didn't show up this morning.

"No," she replied. "He stayed over last night."

"I knew it!" Margaery exclaimed, more excited than Sansa had thought she would have been. After all, Sansa  _knew_ that Margaery knew. "So, did you sleep with him?"

"I slept with him on the sofa," Sansa smiled. "That's all. We fell asleep together."

"No sex?"

"No, no sex."

"What else happened?!"

"Things..." Margaery heard Sansa's tone change, and her face instantly grew worried.

"What happened?"

"Nothing bad, but... things were a little... tense, last night, that's all." Sansa smiled at Margaery before continuing; "He asked me how old I was. I told him, and he told me he was thirty three."

"Nice!" Margaery said approvingly. She had a thing for age gaps.

"That didn't bother me," Sansa said. "It doesn't bother me. Nothing about him bothers me..."

"But?"

"But... he told me that it bothers him, that I  _want_ to be with him. I got all defensive and wasn't happy."

"Oh dear."

"He..." Sansa paused and looked right at her best friend. "I know you won't tell anyone, but still, please promise me that what I say to you now, you can't tell a soul - not even Bronn."

"Sansa, I swear to you," Margaery replied honestly. "I promise..."

"He... he told me he had a problem with it, because... because I'm beautiful and he's not. He told me -  _god_ , Margaery, he told me about his face, how it happened... He was six. Six. He's practically lived his entire life hating himself, being bullied and feared. He told me girls slept with him for a dare..." Sansa paused and remembered his pained face and wet eyes.

"Wow, Sansa," Margaery raised her eyebrows. "He must trust you already, if he's letting you know about  _that_."

"I know..." Sansa smiled, only half sad. "I told him that I didn't care - that I want him for him. After that, we ended up back on the sofa. We kissed, and fell asleep. I woke up this morning, went for a shower - _alone_ , he was still sleeping, and... when I came back, he had made breakfast for us both."

"Aww!"

"Margaery," Sansa said, and her friend nodded.

"I know, I know. Come on."

The two girls went into Margaery's room, and Sansa sat on her bed with Margaery got ready.

"So... I heard him say something about seeing you tonight?"

"You heard correct," Sansa grinned. "Here." She handed Margaery the hair brush she had been searching for. Margaery nodded, took the brush from her and put her hair into a high bun. "I knew you would go well together," she grinned at Sansa through the mirror. "I said to Bronn you'd make a good match." Sansa smiled, and watched as Margaery got ready for work. She stripped down to her underwear - right in front of Sansa - and changed into her work uniform. She sat in front of her mirror and applied her makeup. Sansa laughed as she watched Margaery grab her concealer from her makeup bag and apply it to her neck, trying to cover up the love bites.

"That man," she laughed. "He's a vampire, I swear he is."

"I wonder what _his_ neck looks like," Sansa grinned. Margaery winked.

"Dracula has asked me to stay over at his place again tonight," Margaery said as she applied her mascara. "I hope you don't mind - again?! It's my day off tomorrow, and he said he's taking the day off, so we're going out for the day somewhere."

"Have fun! You two deserve a good day out together," Sansa replied sweetly.

"I want to go to the theatre," Margarery smiled. "But he said he doesn't like the theatre. So..."

"So tell Bronn I said to enjoy the theatre," Sansa chimed, and Margaery laughed.

"It means you'll have the flat to yourself again," Margaery said pointedly. "You'll be alone..."

"I'm sure I'll survive."

"Will Sandor be round again?"

"I'm not sure," Sansa replied.

"Do you have some sexy underwear for tonight?" Margaery asked as she stood up and sprayed herself with her favourite perfume.

"Yes, but..."

"Better safe than sorry," she grinned. "Mm. Speaking of which..." She rummaged in her top drawer and pulled out a condom. She held it out for Sansa. "Here, take this."

"I ..."

"I'm far too young to be an aunt, Sansa," Margaery pulled a face at her. "Just in case." Sansa took the condom from Margaery and placed it on the side. "I need to go soon..."

The two friends left her room and went into the kitchen. Margaery grabbed her car keys from the fruit bowl and put her black jacket on. She kissed Sansa's forehead and headed for the door. "Hey, Sans," she smirked. "Maybe Sandor can make you breakfast again tomorrow." She walked over to the front door and opened it. "Breakfast  _in bed_." She shut the door and laughed as Sansa cursed at her.

*

Sansa tidied the flat today. She felt like Cinderella: she mopped and dusted and hoovered and polished and did laundry. She listened to the radio and sang along as she did so. She tidied the living room, wiping the spilled coffee that was probably caused by Bronn, and plumped up the cushions on the sofas. When she was done, she took five minutes and sat down on the main sofa; in the same seat she had last night. She looked over to the empty space where Sandor had been, and found herself wishing he was here again. Her phone buzzed, and she took it from her pocket and smiled.  _'Hello you, I hope you don't mind but I asked Bronn to forward your number to me. Hope tonight is still on? I'll be round for 7. Fancy dinner? - MY TREAT? Sandor, x.'_ Sansa grinned as she typed a reply.

Sansa tidied her bedroom, sorting her drawers out. She laughed to herself as she found a few pairs of knickers and some bras that Margaery called her 'sexy' underwear - thin bits of fabrics with lace and ruffles and the sort. Sansa decided to wear a nice lace set tonight - midnight blue and black in colour, with a tiny black bow in between both cups of the bra. Sansa opened her newly tidied wardrobe and spent the best part of the afternoon trying to decide what to wear. When she had finally decided, she went for a shower.

She didn't wash her hair, but she freshened up - and sang - in the shower. She shaved her legs, and... other places, loving the smell of her lavender and poppy blossom shower gel. She got out of the shower and went to her bedroom. She dried herself off, then changed into grey joggers and an oversized white shirt while she got ready. She decided to wear her hair in a high ponytail. She applied her makeup, favouring a dark bronze eyeshadow along with her eyeliner and blush. She got dressed last - she wore a dark purple dress, which was rather short but appropriate, and had thin straps that crisscrossed at the back. Her shoes were heels, black, but this time the heels were thick and more sturdy. When she was done, she sprayed herself with her perfume, then grabbed a bag from her wardrobe. She made sure she had cash in her purse, then threw her purse into her orange clutch bag. She went into the kitchen and waited.

At exactly 7pm, there was a knock at the door. Sansa opened it, and this time it was her who was knocked for six. Sandor appeared behind the door, standing tall and proudly. He looked fearsome, but Sansa had long since saw past that. He was wearing dark blue jeans, black shoes that were shiny, and a long sleeved shirt a shade of dark emerald. His hair was long, hiding that one side of his face... He smelled wonderful, and Sansa could have spent the entire night just looking at him. "Good evening," he grinned.

"Hi..." she breathed. "Just let me..." Sandor nodded, and waited while Sansa went and double checked everywhere was locked, turned down and switched off. She locked the door, and stood facing him in the hallway. "Hi."

"You look beautiful," he said honestly.

"You do, too," she said, blushing.

"I noticed you're wearing heels," he said as they got into his car.

"Yes," she laughed. "But these ones are a lot more manageable that the last pair."

"Well, if not, I already know the route to the A&E department pretty well," he said lightly, and his tone made Sansa laugh even more.

"Where are we going tonight, by the way?" she asked him as they drove off.

"Ah," he said, "that's a surprise."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry this hasn't been updated in a few days, hopefully this latest addition will be enough to keep you all interested :) thanks again for reading/leaving comments and kudos, means a lot :D xo
> 
> (also in this next part it switches between the morning and the night before, hope nobody gets confused. it should be i've done it so you can tell, but if not i apologise.)

"We're here." Sandor stopped his car and looked over at Sansa, who was trying to guess where they were. It was fairly dark out now, a cool June evening.

"Where are we?" Sandor didn't reply, he simply smiled and got out of the car. Sansa did, too, and she followed him. They walked across the carpark, which was rather empty, and around a corner or two. They came onto a main road, a few small shops and flats here and there. Sansa thought back to that tiny little room above the kebab shop she once called home...

They soon approached a tall building, white and gleaming. Sansa saw little tables and chairs outside, on a fenced-off patio area, and realised it was a pub. There was a soft hum of music and chatter coming from within, and from the distance Sansa could see the twinkle of fairy lights. She looked up at Sansa, expecting him to speak, but he just continued on. She followed him, walking close by his side.

When they reached the front of the pub, Sansa went to walk through the front door. "Allow me," Sandor said courteously, opening the door fully for her. She thanked him with a smile, and a blush, and he followed her through.

"Well, look who it is," came a voice from inside. Sansa looked, and Sandor grunted, grinned, and walked over to the bar. Sansa followed him like a lamb. Stood behind the bar was a handsome man with blonde hair and piercing eyes. "Jaime, I told you I'd be here tonight," Sandor sighed. "Did you not get my text?"

"Of course he did," the person stood beside Jaime spoke. They were tall, taller than Jaime, and had short blonde hair and a build almost as impressive as Sandor's. Almost. "My idiot husband does love to wind you up, Sandor. Take no notice of him. I never do."

"My wife, as charming as always," Jaime laughed. "Brienne, you know I love you." He looked over at Sansa, who gave him a shy smile. "Wow."

"Excuse me?!" Brienne smacked him on the arm, and Jaime pulled a face as if it had actually hurt him. Sansa thought it probably did.

"You know  _why_ we're here, I assume?" Sandor said, bringing everybody's focus back into the room.

"Of course," Jaime smiled. "Come on then. Brienne, hold the fort until I get back?"

"Rome didn't fall because you left," his wife laughed. "Neither will this place." She looked at Sansa. "It was lovely to meet you...?"

"Sansa," Sansa gave her name with a polite smile. "I'm Sansa."

"Brienne," came her reply. "Lovely to meet you." Sansa smiled and followed Sandor and Jaime.

They were led out back, and Jaime walked up some stairs, Sandor and then Sansa following behind. He unscrewed a hatch door in the roof and pushed it open. He climbed up and stepped back, allowing the two people behind him room to do the same. Without even giving either of them time to speak, Jaime handed Sandor the keys, mumbled something about 'shutting it back properly again', and then he was gone.

*

Sansa and Sandor stood on the roof, facing each other. Terrace was probably the best word to describe where they were. A wooden platform was gazing out across the open fields, and Sansa spotted a small lake nearby. There was a solid metal railing that ran around the edge, covered in thick glass to prevent falls. Luckily, the glass was black and dark, so nobody could see in, yet Sandor and Sansa could see out. The view was breathtaking. A small red sofa was set up against the far wall, along with a long deck which had patterned, quilted blankets laid out. Sansa spotted a picnic basket, and looked up at Sandor. "Here?" she asked.

"Here," he smiled. She took his hands and led him over to the decking, where the picnic basket and blankets were. They sat down together, and she beamed up at him. "This is so wonderful," she breathed. "It's so romantic, and... nobody has ever done anything like this for me before."

"Nobody's even done what you've done for me before," Sandor whispered, but she heard. She pretended like she hadn't. She just smiled at him even more.

"How did you arrange this?" 

"Jaime and I used to live near each other, as boys," Sandor explained, opening the picnic basket up and looking inside. "We were never really... 'friends', but we got on well enough. He was one of the only people who still spoke to me after - after my face got melted away." He gave a grim laugh. "He moved away, because he joined the army. That's where he met Brienne. She was some high ranking officer or something, and he fell for her without meaning to. She doesn't take any messing that woman." Sansa admired her for that. "Anyway, Jaime and I actually ran into each other the other night at the pub. We got talking, and I..."

If Sansa didn't know any better, she'd say Sandor was getting embarrassed.

"He asked me how life was going, if I was seeing anybody, and... well, I mentioned you, and he asked if we'd been out on a date, so... that was it," he mumbled. He quickly grabbed two glasses from the bucket that had been hiding behind the sofa, and the wine, and poured. He filled Sansa's glass up rather generously, but only had a small sip himself. "Cheers."

"Cheers." Sansa was trying to keep the butterflies in her stomach at bay. He had told people about her - about them, together...

They spent a few minutes in silence, drinking and taking in their surroundings. "Let's see what's in this bag..." Sansa smiled, diving in. She had a look around and pulled out a few ready made bags. The first she opened was starters - bruscetta with tomato sauce and salted ham and cheeses. Sandor's stomach growled and she laughed at him. It was finger food, so Sansa had no problem eating with her hands. Sandor seemed slightly apprehensive, not wanting to eat first in case she thought him rude and like a pig. When he saw her picking her food up with her fingers - those damn fingers of hers - he smiled, relaxed and did the same.

"Here," she said softly, picking up the last piece of bruscetta and layering it with thick slices of sorrano ham. "Have this." She fed him, and god it was so sensual. She stared at his mouth the entire time, and it didn't help him stay calm at all.

Next, for their main, they had fresh chicken and pasta with herbs and mushrooms. Sandor had arranged everything with Jaime, and he knew exactly where to find the bowls. He handed one to Sansa, and she held it steady while he dished out her dinner. She sniffed it up and licked her lips, again not helping him. They ate that, speaking casually as they did. Sandor's smile suddenly widened, and Sansa cocked her head and looked at him.

"I saw a little bird at work earlier," he said as he twirled some pasta around on his fork. "It reminded me of you." Sansa's butterflies were going crazy. "This little thing it was, with bright red feathers. It stayed sitting on the fence outside for hours, all afternoon nearly. Chirp, chirp, chirp chirping away it was. I named it Sansa."

"Aw."

"That sounds so stupid," he grumbled.

"No," Sansa set her bowl down to the side and reached for him. "Not stupid at all. Sweet. So, so sweet..."

"Sansa, the rest of your dinner..." he said. She was creeping towards him - on her hands and fucking knees - and he gulped. She had a delicious look on her face, eyes gleaming with promise.

"I don't want the rest."

"Dessert then?"

"You can be my dessert..."

She held his face in her hands and gazed into his eyes. He honestly took her breath away, and not in the way people would have guessed. She smiled at him, as his face watched hers with curiosity. Her lips came into contact with his own. The softest rose against the prickliest thorn. He hadn't been expecting such a tender kiss, he grunted into her mouth and she smiled. That single kiss had caused his arousal to mount, and his cock was now straining against his jeans. Sansa moved, and now she was kneeling on top of him, legs parted, knees resting either side of him. With Sandor being so huge, and broad, her legs were parted quite a way in order to fit him properly. He felt smug about this, and grinned up at her. She raised an eyebrow inquisitively, but he gave a small shake of his head. "God, Sansa..."

"Mm," she muttered, sighing a moan as her lips came down to his neck. She traced light kisses on his neck, starting from his chin and ending just near his lower chest. She spotted some scar tissue and burn marks on his chest, as his body went lower and deeper, but it didn't phase her at all. He grunted as her hot, wet mouth tortured his neck. When she had finished claiming him, he decided to play the ball in his own court.

With a swift, singular movement, he rolled over so he was the one on top. She felt his weight crush her to the floor, saw his face bearing over her, just like she had imagined... The reality was a thousand times better than the fantasy. She bit her lip and her eyes widened as she felt his erection grow, hardening against her even now.

He decided to return the favour, and spent the next few minutes devouring her neck. Soft, soft flesh, paler than the moon in the sky. She let out a number of little moans, each turning him on more than the last. She panted his name and squirmed beneath him, and she felt him grin against her neck. Her own arousal had also grown, the space between her legs now wet and hot and full of wanting. Nobody could disturb them - the roof was locked - Sandor had the key, and the glass panes surrounding them were dark. Dark enough for nobody to see them...

"Sandor, I ..."

"Sorry." He panted and straightened up, still on top of her. He looked down into her eyes and waited. "Too much?"

"No," she gasped, reaching for him again. She didn't quite know what had caused her to be like this, now, with Sandor. What had come over her? She decided she didn't care. She liked it; and she knew Margaery would have been proud. Her eyes locked onto his and they danced and burned with the promise of passion. "Not enough..."

She reached for him again, kissing his lips hard. He grunted and kissed her back with fervour. "Are you sure?" He asked. She nodded quickly and glued her mouth back to his where they belonged. She shuffled beneath him and he let her free. She pounced on him, kneeling above him once more. She grinned as her hands went to his jeans. Without breaking eye contact she pulled his jeans down his legs and off. She threw them to the side and looked down. He was  _huge_ , Sansa could see everything clear as day. Sandor's cock was begging for release, and she slid his boxers down and off, pooling them on the floor by his jeans. The cool air made his cock twitch, and he laughed as he saw Sansa's eyes widen. She gulped and  _licked her lips_ , and god he wasn't sure his erection could grow any larger. "Gosh..." Her thin fingers suddenly wrapped themselves around his shaft, and her touch was so sensual, so delicate that he growled and pulled her to him, attacking her neck with his teeth. She moaned low, breathless. He released her, and she continued to slowly pump her hand up and down. She stopped pleasuring him with her hands after a few moments, and he let out a sigh of frustration.

Sansa only smiled more. She straightened herself up and stood up. Remembering all those times Margaery had told her of her wild sex nights with Bronn - which was pretty much every single night - she slowly removed the straps from her dress. She let the dress fall to her ankles, resting on the floor, and Sandor groaned again. She was wearing her pretty little set, midnight blue and black. She blushed as she saw Sandor, lying half-naked, lusting after her. He managed to somehow bring an animalistic side of Sansa out, a side she never knew she had until now...

She returned to him, in her underwear, once again kneeling over him. Her body was so incredible; perfectly curvy yet petite. Her breasts were fairly small, but well rounded and more than enough for Sandor. She went to pull his shirt off, but he resisted. "Why?" She asked, and with a single look she knew.

"Look at you," he sighed, "and look at me. My body isn't as bad as my face, but there's still some h -"

"All." She undid the first few buttons. "Of." She undid the rest, and slid the shirt off his shoulders and upper back. "You." The shirt was now... somewhere. _Christ.  
_

Sandor was muscled like a bull, with broad shoulders, a chest that Adonis would have been jealous of, and arms to match. Manly, and surprisingly with a lot less chest hair than Sansa had imagined. The right side of his chest, lower neck and top of his shoulder were covered with faint scars, some of the skin raw. Sandor was right - it wasn't as extreme as his face, but Sansa again did not care. She wanted every single part of him.

It was Sansa's eyes that grew wide with desire. Sandor was now fully naked, and Sansa was in her element. A moan escaped her lips and she blushed, even now. Especially now.

Sansa's mouth was around his cock in a flash, and his hands found the back of her head. She worked his shaft, licking the tip and then taking him into her mouth. Just like in Sandor's car fantasy scene, he was too big for her to fit him all in, but she did try. The first time she gagged, pulling back with her eyes watering. Determined, she tried again. As he filled her mouth, she began to moan and the vibrations around him sent chills throughout his whole body. Slowly, he eased himself further down her throat. He thrusted a few times, and she accepted him, taking him as deep as her gag reflex would allow. He stopped. Now it was Sansa's turn.

Sandor gently lifted her up and set her down on her back. He lay beside her, and Sansa sighed as she felt his hands on her thighs. Her legs were slim and seemed to go on forever. He traced tiny circles on her inner thighs, sending her crazy. With a single hand, he grabbed the waistband of her knickers and within the blink of an eye they were off. His fingers rubbed up and down her folds, which were dripping. "So wet for me, little bird..." Sandor whispered into her ear, causing her to tremble. Without warning, his finger was inside her.

She was so wet, and his finger went deep inside her heat. She moaned and groaned as he pumped his thick forefinger in and out. She came within seconds, and when he rubbed another finger over her clit her orgasm was like nothing she had ever known. She felt breathless and lightheaded and hot and sweaty and incredible. And that was just from his fingers.

Sandor made her orgasm a few more times, up to the point where she was begging him. "Please, oh..."

"What do you want?" he rasped into her ear, feeling her wetness drip down onto his fingers again.

"F... please," she gasped. "Fuck me... go - yes!"

Sandor positioned himself above her. He placed the tip of himself at her entrance, and with a swift movement was inside of her. He didn't go even halfway in, but she seemed to be enjoying the part of him she did have. He let her adjust to him a few seconds, and then he pushed some more. She gripped onto his massive forearms, fingernails digging into his skin slightly. Sandor felt her contract around him, and after a few seconds more she nodded. Sandor entered her some more, and soon enough he was nearly all the way in. He gently began thrusting, back and forth. Sansa panted and moaned his name.

He could not believe what was happening. Sansa was beautiful, and she was allowing him to be this way with her. In the past, Sandor had only fucked women because they were a) too drunk to realise what he actually looked like, or b) because the stupid woman had been dared to by an equally stupid friend. He had enjoyed it, sure, it had been sex, after all... but this with Sansa felt different somehow. The women in the past had been nothing more than a fuck, but this with Sansa wasn't the same. The women in the past had all been taken from Sandor from behind - drunk or not, he still didn't want to have them see his face. With Sansa, now, his face was bearing over her own. He was on top of her, their bodies close, intimate.

"Sandor..." Sansa came for the nth time, and she wasn't sure she could take another turn. He was dangerously close, and they hadn't used a condom... Sandor pulled out, and went to stroke himself to climax. "No, here..." Sansa took his hands away and returned her mouth to his cock. She didn't care that she could taste herself on him - something that Sandor found very, very erotic - and she continued to pleasure him until he came, finishing in her mouth. There was a lot of cum, and Sansa swallowed what she could. Afterwards, they lay back together, on the decking, panting.

"God, Sandor, I..."

"I know," he sighed. "I know. Thank you."

*

Once they had caught their breaths, they dressed again and stayed on the roof. Sansa checked her phone. It was just near midnight, but Sandor told Sansa that Brienne and Jaime never closed their pub before 2am, so they had a while longer yet. Sansa shivered, so Sandor grabbed one of the blankets and wrapped it around her. "Here," she said, lifting it up and waving him closer to her. "Here." Sandor gave her a smile and shuffled closer to her. She hugged him close, tight, sharing his warmth. He was always so hot, Sansa could have hired him to be her own personal radiator.

He poured them both a fresh drink - Sansa had some more wine, and he had a bottle of water that had been hiding at the bottom of the picnic basket. They lay together for a while, looking up at the stars. Sansa seemed fascinated by them, and she lay with Sandor and told him of the funny shapes she saw. "That one there..." She pointed and waited until he was looking at the right one. "It looks like... a bear?"

"I'd say more of a dog," Sandor laughed.

"Dog," Sansa repeated, looking again. She spotted one right next to it. "That one...  _oh my god_. It looks like a -"

"A little bird," Sandor said tenderly, and Sansa's butterflies had fluttered back home. "The dog and the bird. People used to call me a dog."

"That's not very nice," Sansa said, sounding outraged. "You're not a dog."

"They used to call me 'the hound', if I remember rightly," Sandor said, clearing his throat and laughing bitterly.

"Well, forget whoever they were," Sansa kissed his cheek. "You're my hound now."

***

Sandor woke up and sniffed. He kicked the covers off his legs and stood up. Opening the door, the smell became stronger and stronger. Not yet fully awake, Sandor rubbed his eyes as he stumbled into his kitchen. A little "Oh!" followed by a stronger, chirpier, "Good morning," made him wake up in a flash. Sansa's face had flushed, only slightly now, and she grinned at him as she stared.

Sandor realised - only just - that he was completely naked. He grunted a curse and grabbed a newspaper on the table and tried to cover himself up. He wasn't sure why - they'd both seen each other naked,  _been_ with each other - but it didn't seem... correct, right now, so early in the morning... in his kitchen.

"There's no need for that," she laughed, placing a mug underneath his coffee machine and pressing the on-button. "It's not like you have to hide anything from me."

"True," he said, "but still..." He said no more, just held his finger up to her. He went to his bedroom, found his dressing gown - black and thick and fluffy, hanging on the back of his bedroom door - and wrapped it around him. He returned to the kitchen, standing near the island in the middle of the room, and he felt his heart pounding as he saw what she was wearing. She was in one of his shirts, a dark blue lumberjack one. It was one of Sandor's favourite, if he was honest. It usually clung to him tight, all abs and biceps and the like, but Sansa could have wrapped herself underneath it and gone exploring with room to spare. The sleeves were long, falling way past her fingers, but she had rolled them up the best she could; and the cloth was now bunched round her elbows on either side. The bottom of the shirt fell just past her round ass, so perfect...

"Here." Sansa took his coffee and handed it to him, at the kitchen table. She held the chair out for him. "Sit." He gave her an amused look - Sandor wasn't usually one for taking orders, especially from a woman - and in his own house.

"Thank you," he said as he sat down, watching her.

Sansa seemed to have memorised where every little thing in his kitchen was. Without looking, she reached into his top drawer and pulled out a whisk. She walked over to the microwave, stirred the eggs round, then skipped over to the pan where she was frying the bacon and chopped tomatoes. She had woke up early, and as Sandor had done previously, she decided to cook him breakfast. He'd worked up an appetite last night...

When they had returned from their encounter on the roof, all sweaty and hot and wonderful, they went back to Sandor's car. Jaime and Brienne had thanked them for their custom - Sansa thought it was her who ought to be thanking them, for their hospitality. Jaime gazed at Sandor the way men do, encouraging and winking and filthy. Brienne smiled softly at Sansa, and called out that they'd have to visit again sometime. Sansa knew she'd like that.

In Sandor's car, they had both sat, and breathed, and remembered.

"I don't have to go in work tomorrow," he told her.

"Neither do I," Sansa smiled.

"Do you want to go home?" he asked, starting his car up. He had secretly hoped she'd say no. He wanted to see her as much as possible.

"No," she breathed. "Margaery is out with Bronn, and the flat is horrible when it's just me. I don't mind it, but I prefer company."

"I don't," he gave a bitter laugh, and realised the look that had fallen on Sansa's pretty little face. "No," he added quickly. "I mean... I don't normally prefer company, for obvious reasons. Yours though..."

"Yessss?" she purred.

"I can manage yours."

"So...? Do you want -?"

"We could go back to my place?" he suggested, and Sansa felt her heart do tiny little flips. "I mean... if you w -"

"I'd love to."

Sandor's place had been... different. Sansa wasn't entirely sure what she had expected, but when he pulled up outside his flat, on the top floor of a six storey building, she was surprised. The building block had an elevator, and everywhere looked clean and tidy and... expensive. Sandor's flat was at the end of the corridor, a dark red door with a round gold knocker. He unlocked the door and they entered.

His flat was bigger than it had seemed from outside, with a massive kitchen in monochrome and a spacious bedroom with an ensuite. Sansa was impressed, and she loved the decor. It was not what she had imagined, but she was pleased with her surroundings. He looked at her eagerly, waiting for her to give her opinion.

"How long have you lived here?" she asked, sitting down in the living room. His sofa was black leather, the walls of his living room a dark green colour.

"About five years," he answered, sitting down next to her. "When the building opened." Something sounded different in his voice, and Sansa frowned.

"Who built this building? Sandor - did - did you build it?" 

"A bit," he grinned. "I did the plan, and the designs, and... I hired people to put brick on brick, but I helped, so... yes, you could say that."

"That's really impressive," Sansa sounded genuine. "Do you get out of paying bills?"

"Actually yes," he laughed. "The contractors and I came up with a deal. Because this is my building, instead of me getting money for it I'd have a room here, mortgage and rent free, all bills included. Wasn't a bad deal."

"I'll say," Sansa laughed. "That's really, really smart. So, when you said you're a handyman, you do plumbing and electrics and stuff... you really meant it. You can do it all. Include come up with amazing building ideas." Sansa had no idea he was such a complex man.

"It's nothing," he shook it off and stood up. He walked over to the kitchen, which was open, and opened the fridge. "Do you want some more wine? I've got some here..."

"If you are," Sansa sang, and he nodded and brought a full bottle of white and two glasses. Sansa grinned - it looked like one of her nights with Margaery.

They sat on the sofa, watching TV, and drank their wine as they did so. Since they had now had sex, been one with each other, the heat in the air had dropped by about 1%. They still undressed each other with their eyes, and their skin still felt hot and sent sparks of feeling through the other.

They had been halfway through the bottle of wine when Sansa had asked him for a tour. He nodded, took her hand and stood up with her. He showed her the flat - the kitchen she had already seen, and the living room.

"This is the spare room," he said as he swung the door open. Inside the room, with its cream coloured walls and brown oak furnishings and decorations, was a single bed, a small TV and a small bookshelf with old battered books lying on it. "I don't use it for much, more of a storage room really." He took her to the pantry, which was a small little room between the bathroom and the kitchen. Sansa had been dying to see his bedroom. Thankfully, he took her there last - and without her having to ask to see it.

"And... this, this is my room," he said, pushing the door gently and stepping inside, her following behind. His bedroom walls were a dark grey colour, similar to that of his eyes. He had a large bed in the middle of the room, against the far wall. Sansa assumed it to be a kingsize bed. With the size of Sandor, he'd need it. His room was fairly basic - he had a TV on the wall, a wardrobe, some drawers, a bedside table and a tall bookshelf. He had an ensuite, complete with free standing bath, and a shower with tall glass around it.

"I love it all," Sansa smiled. They were now standing in the bedroom, a few feet away from his bed...

"This bacon is so good," Sandor loved how it was soft and smoked yet crisped to perfection. "Are you sure you're not a chef instead of a waitress?"

"No," Sansa laughed, blowing on her cup of tea and sipping. "I don't think I can cook that well, but..."

"I disagree," he said. He ate the other half of his sandwich in all of three bites. Sansa stared at him in shock. He grabbed another piece of bread from the side and sat back down, using it to mop up the bacon and tomato juices. "So... good!"

"You looked like you were ready for it," Sansa's eyes met his own.

"Your fault," he grunted, and this time she did blush. She thought back to last night, when they had had sex again. They'd both been stood in his bedroom, the tour of the flat just ended. Sansa realised she still had her shoes on - shoes that still had the heel intact. She stood on one foot, undoing the straps of the shoe and taking it off. She had never had the best balance in the world, and the heel she was supporting her weight on began to wobble gently. She stumbled, clumsily, and fell back. Thankfully, the bed had been there, so she wouldn't have hurt herself. However, she never fell. Sandor's arm had reached out and grabbed her hand, holding her still. He was leaning into her, and they were both together, on an angle.

Sansa's eyes found his, and she gasped quietly. She reached up to meet his mouth, and she fell, pulling him, and he fell, pushing her. Onto the bed.

Mouths met and broke away and reconnected. Sandor's bed was soft and large and plenty of room for them. They tore at each other's clothes like they were feral. The sounds coming from their lips were just as wild. Hungry, hot, desperate. She moaned his name and he never knew his name could sound the way it did as it fell from her tongue. He groaned and pushed her into the mattress, his entire weight on her. He gripped hold of both her hands in one of his, holding them in place. He was as hard as rock, and she had never felt more turned on in her life. They both had a strong desire for the other that neither of them could fight. 

They were soon both naked again, and Sansa revelled in the fact that a man such as Sandor was pinning her down, lying on top of her, about to ravish her. Sandor looked down at the beauty between his thighs and felt his cock twitch and harden even more. He still didn't understand why she had chosen him - a girl like her could have had the king of the universe. He had long since decided not to question the unexplainable. Sansa was his for now, and that was all that mattered - for now.

He bent his head down and kissed her neck. One kiss, then another somewhere else, and then another somewhere else again. He kissed her skin until it tingled, and she moaned at him, begging him without words. He lowered his neck again, biting the sensitive flesh, watching as it turned red and purple in seconds. He kissed down her entire body, her face and collarbone and shoulders. He kissed her lower ear and she shook and trembled with wanting. The heat between her legs was never-ending, and she needed him  _now_.

"Please..." She begged.

"No," he teased. "Little bird, patience..."

"No," she moaned. She gripped hold of his arms, bulging with muscle and power. She tried to force him down, tried angling her hips to meet him in the middle, but it was no use. He was a thousand times stronger than she was, they both knew it. Sansa groaned in frustration, and squealed as he took her left breast into his mouth. He rubbed her nipple on her right breast, feeling it harden at his touch. The other hardened again in his mouth, brushing slightly once he had done. Lower he went again, ignoring Sansa's wanton cries and moans. He trailed kisses down her flat stomach, her flesh pale and tender. When he reached her sex, he breathed her in, loving the sticky sweet smell she gave. His tongue caused all new kinds of pleasure, and he grinned as she thrashed on the bed, head rising and falling against the pillows. She tasted so goddamn fine; he wanted to drink her until she was drained. His tongue flicked against her most sensitive area, and she cried out. He snaked his tongue inside of her, feeling the hot and the wet and tasting the meaning of life.

"Oh god, Sandor..."

Seeing her come so undone - for him - he decided enough teasing was enough. He worked his way back up to her, eyes burning into hers. She was hot and flushed and panting for him. Pleading eyes and teeth biting into her own flesh, she was desperate for him. He positioned himself at her entrance and entered her. She moaned out loud the second the very tip of him slide inside her. Sandor was huge - she'd found that out once already tonight - and she was still fairly sensitive from the first time.

Sansa had only been with one other person - Joffrey. It had been the case of 'a little prick for a little prick.' They had lost their virginities together, and Sansa had never felt fully satisfied whenever they had been together. Joffrey had always just grunted, called Sansa dirty names - which she never liked but he ignored her when she told him and continued to anyway, and then finished and that had been it. Since Joffrey, Sansa had been with nobody else. She'd had a few stupid kisses, none that ever led to anything or meant much. Sandor was a completely new story. He pleasured her in ways she didn't even know possible - she'd only ever heard of whatever wild thing Margaery had told her she and Bronn had done...

Sandor eased into her, adoring how wet she was for him. He pushed further, and when he was halfway in she gasped. She bit her lip again and looked at him. He bent his head down and gently kissed her. "God, you're so tight, still..." He grunted and pushed more. Sansa felt herself being stretched again. She cried out, part pain part pleasure. "Relax," he told her. A gentle kiss was placed on her forehead, and he kissed her lips as he entered her deeper. Finally, he managed to bury himself deep within her fully. Sansa had never felt like this. She was completely impaled by him, and she felt so full it was amazing.

He stayed still for a moment, allowing Sansa's body to get used to him being inside her. After a few seconds, he slowly began to pump in and out of her. To begin with, it was slow and steady. Sansa rocked her own hips to meet his, and her fingers tangled in his chest hair as she stroked him.

"Oh! Oh! Oh, yes..."

Soon, he began to pick up the pace. He held her hips in place with his hands, hands that could cover her face easy. He thrusted into her, pounding and pounding, causing her to moan and groan and cry out his name. She felt her orgasm building, and it crashed over her in an electric wave of pleasure. Sandor felt his cock being coated by her wetness, and this only spurred him on further. He wondered how many times he could make his little bird come undone for him?

Again, and again, again and again and then again. By the end, Sansa's hair was sticky, beads of sweat glistening on her brow and chest. Sandor was hot, sweaty too, but they both loved it.

Sandor felt his own climax approaching, and he stayed buried in her until it was time. He pumped into her without mercy, forcing her to come undone more than she knew possible. She saw stars as she came again, gushing down onto him and soaking his cock with her juices. Sandor pulled out, and without warning Sansa took him into her mouth as she had done before. He held her hair with one hand, gripping the long red locks and holding tight. His other hand fell to the back of her head, and as she bobbed up and down he supported with his hand. He felt his cock twitching again, and groaned in relief at his release. Sansa coughed and spluttered but he groaned at her and she took it, swallowing and pulling a slight face.

That had been the hottest sex Sandor - and definitely Sansa - had ever had. It had been hot and sweaty and slightly rough and incredible... but also intimate and close and loving. Sansa wondered if it was because they had been in a bed - in Sandor's bed. She wondered if he had ever slept with anyone else here, but suddenly felt herself getting jealous so shook all such thoughts from her mind.

Sansa had gone to clear the table away, gathering the empty breakfast plates and cups. Sandor had stopped her. "No, I have a dishwasher, and I'll do it." He stood up, took the plates and cups from Sansa's hands, and placed them in the dishwasher. He shut the door using his foot, then turned to look at her. "That shirt suits you."

"Thank you," she smiled, standing up and pushing her chair in place. "I like it. I..." She laughed. "I couldn't find my clothes. This was the first thing I saw. Sorry, I hope you don't mind."

"No," he shook his head. He looked at her tenderly and walked to where she was. He wrapped his arms around her, arms that she never wanted to leave. He rested his head on the space between her neck and shoulder, and his beard and breath both tickled and made her giggle and sigh. "With me, you can have whatever you want." She didn't look at him, but she ran her fingers across his hands and whispered; "Good, because I want everything."


End file.
